


Come Down To Me

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Fey Creatures, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Original Characters - Freeform, Racism, Roland is worse than usual, Slow Burn, Smut, The Brollachan, Violence, cursing, dark au, fairies vs. goblins, romeo and juliet type stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-07-22 03:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7417117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marianne is traveling to meet her husband-to-be Roland, a fairy of the southern kingdom. Traveling through the Dark Forest she hopes to catch a glimpse of a goblin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winged Creatures

Constantly looking behind her was making flying quickly difficult. She hated to admit she was worried about getting caught, though the chances of that happening were next to nothing at the present moment. Everyone at the camp was asleep and it was early enough that no one would be awake for a while. Their group of fairies was traveling through the Dark Forest on their way to meet with the fairy kingdom that bordered the other side of the Dark Forest, where her betrothed lived, the famously handsome Prince Roland Knight. 

Marianne and Prince Roland had been engaged since they were children and now that they both were well past the age where they were old enough to marry, the two were finally going to meet. Part of the issue with their not meeting all these years were the dangers that lurked in the Dark Forest. It was populated by all sorts of unsavory types. At least that was what she had heard growing up. Wild goblins, trickster spirits, dark riders, kelpies, ghausts and any number of other wicked things. 

The hope was that once the two fairy kingdoms were united, they could work together to bring down the menace that was the Dark Forest. Marianne though, thought that a terrible idea. There were so many new and interesting things in the Dark Forest! She really couldn't see how it could all be evil. How could it? But now she had been given the opportunity of a lifetime! They were heavily guarded, with foot-soldiers and wasp-riders and numerous archers as they traveled through the forest on their way to the Knights' kingdom—which didn't allow for Marianne to wander off, but for now at least, she was free!!! At least for an hour anyway, she thought ruefully. 

And she was going to make the most of it. If this little adventure succeeded and she managed to get back before anyone noticed, then she could do it again and again! Who knew what she might discover?! 

Her secret wish was that she might see a goblin...a real-life goblin!! But right now she would settle for seeing anything new and different. 

* 

Deep in the darkness, Bog sat on a huge toadstool, sharpening the end of his staff. His mother sat below him skimming the surface of the water for water beetles that she would catch and grind up for dinner. Bog's father was nearby directing a few of the goblins on their search for prey: large beetles, worms, and maybe if they got lucky, a moth or two for dinner to feed the hungry clan. 

Bog watched his parents. They were short, with long horns and squared-off teeth. Bog knew he wasn't their natural-born son, knew that they had found him one day in the forest. He was not like any of the goblins. He was tall, thin, covered in scaly spikes, but the part of him that stood out the most was that Bog, unlike any goblin, had wings. 

Bog had no idea what he was, but he cared about his family above any other concerns. 

Bog's father was a goblin king...well...chief...leader? He had never been really sure though his mother told him his father, Brynmor was the king of the goblins...at least in this area. There supposedly were other forests, with other goblins though they had never traveled elsewhere. 

The “kingdom” was nomadic, never staying in one place for more than a month except in winter when they traveled deep into the forest's interior for winter camp. 

Bog always had a harder time in winter than the other goblins. His wings would freeze if he wasn't careful to protect them. That was just one aspect of himself that always made him feel weak. 

He shook his head. Winter was months away so he really didn't need to worry about it. Right now they were headed to a wedding. Emyln, Bog's cousin, was marrying another goblin from a smaller traveler group. Bog forgot his name. Actually, he didn't forget—he just didn't care. He hated weddings, too loud, too much drinking and eating. And, oh spirits, the singing! Ugh...and most of all...all the declarations of love He would have spat except his mother was down below him and would tan his hide for spitting no matter how big he got. And the absolutely worst part of the whole thing was that his mother would see this as a chance to find him a bride. She was always trying to find some goblin female who would take him. A lost cause as far as Bog was concerned.

Who would want a weirdo like him? Too tall, too ugly and wings to boot! But she would never listen. 

His mother was convinced there was someone out there for him. Bog knew without a doubt that he was meant to be alone...no one would ever love him. 

Shuddering at the thought, Bog stood up, balancing for a moment on the mushroom's cap, staff in hand. No one would want to marry him anyway. He wasn't like anyone else, he wasn't...he took a breath. The only reason anyone would marry him was because he was the prince. That was not what he wanted. Hell, even his being the heir was in question since he was adopted...sometimes Bog wished he could simply vanish. 

His mother Griselda glanced up. “Where you off too?” 

Bog frowned and glared down his nose, but it had no effect on his mother. “Just thought I might go scout around a little.” 

His mother narrowed her eyes. “Don't you go far.” 

Groaning and rolling his head, Bog leaned on his staff. “I'm not a kid anymore, Mom.” 

“No, true, but you're my son and the future king. So don't go far.” She went back to grinding. He would have stuck his tongue out, but he just knew she would know somehow and it was immature...sorta. 

* 

Marianne landed in a large tangle of twisted branches belonging to an ancient oak tree. She stood up, walking carefully, admiring the leaves of the ancient tree. Humming to herself she scanned the area below her. It was strange the way the darkness grew the further down her gaze traveled. She suddenly saw a burst of color from the corner of her eye. 

She turned around so swiftly that she almost stumbled right off the branch, but whatever she saw was gone now. Marianne frowned searching the area, but all she saw was the Dark Forest's dim and drab colors. For a moment Marianne considered taking off after whatever she saw, but decided against it—no point getting herself lost and having the whole camp mobilized to find a lost princess. Besides, it was not worth the lecture she was going to get as it was...if she got herself lost and they had to search for her, her father would put her under constant guard! 

* 

Bog grinned. His fanged and crooked smile wide with glee as he simply flew! He didn't fly a great deal simply because it made him feel even more alien around his family. But when he could take time by himself, away from the goblins and away from being the royal prince, flying was his favorite thing to do. He picked up speed, twisting and turning through the thick and tangled vines of wild raspberry bushes and ancient tree limbs. He dived down close to the edge of a stream running through the bundles of ferns. Bog twisted gracefully in the air letting out a whoop of pleasure. 

Holding his staff with one hand, he extended the other to brush his clawed fingers over the surface of the water just before he shot straight up into the air. He did a full back flip, twisting over and backwards before he landed elegantly on a branch panting, but grinning with glee. He had been singing softly under his breath to himself as he flew. He was so happy that for a moment he didn't notice the camp to his left. Just as he was about to take off again, however, he saw a hint of brightness. Turning with curiosity to see what it might have been, his eyes widened in shock. He quickly pressed himself against the tree where he had landed, letting his natural coloring blend him into the bark, effectively camouflaging him. 

He had never seen fairies before; he had only heard stories from the other goblins and his mother. His mother drew him pictures of fairies when he was younger to show him their wings...They would always talk about fairies in secret. The other goblins didn't like fairies and said that fairies were horrible and violent! That faeries ate goblins! His father, on the other hand, would not discuss the topic of fairies. Ever. 

Bog frowned. He recalled seeing some fairies once in the Dark Forest, when he was younger, but he had been out wandering by himself—which he wasn't suppose to be doing—when he saw them. He never told anyone about them. He hadn't followed them, he had simply hidden and watched them fly by his hiding place, his eyes huge with wonder. 

As Bog watched the camp, he knew without a doubt that he had truly seen fairies when he was younger. Now, he felt a mixture of terrified, angry...and fascinated. All of them, every single one of the fairies had wings! Just like his mother had said and just like the ones he had seen! Not exactly like his , but still—WINGS! He had never seen another creature among the goblins that looked like him, except dragonflies and other insects...it was fascinating to see other creatures with wings that were more similar to him than anything he had seen up to this point in his life. 

* 

Bog recalled, when he was small, asking why no other goblins had wings like him. It was after he had come home crying, beaten up, his wings torn, the other goblins taunting him, calling him a fairy or fairy's bastard. 

Griselda had held her small boy in her arms. At the time he had been so tiny, not the giant he was now and little indication that he would one day be so tall and vicious. He had been a thin, tiny little boy, his wings bigger than he was and despite being the adopted son of the king and queen, he had been teased mercilessly. 

His mother had told him that he was special, that was why he had wings. But Bog had grown up to believe that being special only meant he was different and so he had fought back. If no one would like him, then he would make them fear him, give them a reason not to like him. 

Now that he was grown that was exactly what he was...feared. No goblin would cross Bog—except his mother and father. 

As Bog watched the fairies, he knew it was probably foolish, but he needed to get a closer look. Curiosity made him reckless, but he needed to see them. To see other creatures that could fly.... 

* 

The fairy camp was just starting to come to life. The guards were changing shifts when Dawn slipped out of her tent. She had realized immediately that her sister, Marianne was gone. Now she was in a panic. Not just worrying about her sister, but about Marianne getting caught! Marianne was always sneaking off and the Dark Forest had been a place 

Marianne had been fascinated with for as long as Dawn could remember. Dawn wondered if getting married would stop her sister from sneaking out all the time. 

But no sooner had she slipped out of her tent heading toward the edge of the camp than she was bowled over by a flash of purple. “MORNING!!” a cheery voice yelped as Dawn was wrestled to the ground. 

The two fairies went rolling in a mix of bright colors only for Dawn to end up on her back looking up at her big sister. “Marianne!!! You scared the life out of me!!” 

Marianne giggled. “Goof.” 

She rolled off her little sister to lie on the ground next to her. A couple of the camp guards glanced their way. No one said a word about the princesses lying on the ground while the camp woke up. Dawn whispered, “So what were you doing?” 

Marianne smiled looking up at the complicated weave of branches overheard. “Exploring.” 

Dawn hissed. “Marianne! Daddy said not to go away from the camp! There are all sorts of wild things in these woods! And you might get hurt!! You're supposed to be getting married soon! And there are a lot of dangerous things out here—at least that was what Sunny said and the most dangerous are the goblins! Daddy said they eat fairies!! And they travel in war bands and attack everything! You could get captured or eaten....” 

Marianne gave her rapidly speaking sister a glare, which shut Dawn up, her jaw making an audible snap. 

“I didn't go far and I didn't see anything dangerous.” She decided not to mention the moving piece of colors she saw...no point in working Dawn up over something that was probably a trick of the light. “The Dark Forest is beautiful!! I just wish we could see more.” 

Dawn frowned while she dusted off her light blue dress. “Well, I just want to get to the Southern Kingdom before something wicked or scary finds us!” 

Marianne snorted. “Anyway...is Sunny up yet?” 

Dawn's whole face lit up at the mention of her best friend in the whole world, Sunny. 

Sunny was an elf. A very short elf, but he was the most energetic person either sister knew. He had come along on the trip at Dawn's insistence. Daddy only gave in because 

Dawn pulled the big eyes and the trembling lip. Daddy could not resist Dawn's trembling lip tactic! 

“Oh, I should go check!!” Dawn swiftly ran off to the other side of the camp, leaving her sister chucking in her wake. 

* 

Bog used his natural camouflage to move ever so slowly closer, but his heart was beating in his chest so fast that it hurt and he would swear something or someone could hear him simply because of the beat of his heart! He saw movement among the tents. He was surprised at the number of fairies roaming about. And now that he was closer, he could see other creatures. There were a couple of mice and squirrels, saddled for riding or pulling. Some wingless beings with long pointed ears.... 

But what really caught Bog's eye and kept him staring were the fairies themselves. His mouth dropped open in shock. So many...their wings were...amazing! Bog had never seen anything so intriguing. He crouched down and watched as the fairies started to break down their camp. His blue eyes were huge in wonder as he watched them fly around. 

The colors were marvelous! For a moment, he frowned deeply. Even among the fairies he would be a freak with his scaly hide, horrible sharp face and ugly wings. He pressed his lips together. 

He really didn't belong anywhere. 

* 

He watched for a long time, long enough that he knew he needed to leave soon or his mother would send out goblins to search for him. 

But he was mesmerized. He had never seen anyone else fly before. As he continued his observation of the fairies, a flash of color caught his attention. Bog turned toward the bright color and gasped loudly enough that he threw a hand over his mouth in the hope that no one heard it. 

A fairy had suddenly come into view with the most beautiful pair of wings, in a color Bog had never in his life seen before. He couldn't even think of a word to describe them. 

He knew he looked a fool, his mouth hanging open staring. The color reminded him the evening sky when he would fly up above the twisted branches and heavy cover of the Dark Forest and burst into the light just as the moon was beginning to come out. The fairy turned in his direction for a moment and his heart stopped. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen...she was fairly close and he could see her brown eyes, her perfect petite face. For a moment Bog forgot how to breathe. 

He wanted to move closer, to get a better look, but that was then he noticed a trio of guards heading in his direction. He could hear their voices as they were speaking fairly loudly. Their accents were thick to his ears and he couldn't really understand them. They were clearly speaking another language, not goblin...but they would be close enough soon that they might see him. As much as he wanted to stay to see more, he knew it was probably wiser if he headed back to his family's camp. He gave the beautiful fairy one last longing look as she glided off in the other direction and then he took off. 

* 

One of the guards, a very young man with dark brown hair and eyes so green they seemed to glow, jumped a foot then yelped pointing. “Did you guys see that?!” 

The other two looked at him like he was barmy. “What are you talking about, Christopher? See what? More trees? More muck? Yeah, seen a lot of that and we're going to see a lot more before we get to the Knights' Castle.” Jasper spit. 

The guard Christopher frowned with a slight pout. “I'm serious. I saw a flying creature!” 

The other two laughed. The eldest looking guard with black hair snickered. “How much did you have to drink last night, Christopher?” 

Christopher glared. “I didn't drink anything, Percival. That was you and Jasper.” 

Percival rolled his eyes. “Come on, let's get our scouting started. The caravan won't be far behind.” With that, the three took to the air to scout the path ahead. 

* 

Bog flew as quickly as he could, which was impressively fast until he finally saw the goblin camp up ahead. He had gone further than he had thought, running into some goblins who had just been sent to search for him. He landed at a run, making his way to his parents. The goblin group who was about to head out to search for him cheered at seeing the prince returned and hurried back where drinking had started at one of the campfires even this early in the morning. 

When Bog arrived at the campfire where his mother and father were preparing for the morning meal, Griselda almost came out of her seat. “BOG!! Where have you been?!” Griselda threw herself at her son wrapping her arms around Bog. “I was worried sick!” 

His father looked up at him from where he was sticking hunks of meat with the tip of a claw, though he seemed calm. “We were all worried, son! Your mother was about to go look for you herself! What were you doing?” 

“I found fairies!!” Bog was out of breath and just barely got the words out. 

“What?” His parents said in unison. 

“Fairies! In the Dark Forest! I saw them! There were a great many of them with tents and caravans and a lot of dragonfly mounts, squirrels...it was amazing!!” 

His father Brynmor walked over and grabbed his son's arm. There was clear fear in his voice. “Stay way from the fairies, Bog. Whatever you do, stay away from them.” 

Bog was frustrated and his temper was starting to get the best of him. “But Da...I—fairies! I've never really seen one before and they have wings Da, wings!” 

Brynmor made a warning growl in the back of his throat. “Bog, the fairies in the north are...well...I donna worry about them, but if'n they be Southern Fairies you need to stay away from them. They are dangerous. You should stay away from all fairies, regardless. The winged bastards can't be trusted.” 

With that, he released Bog's arm. It was clear his father was very upset; more than simply upset, he was angry and terrified both. 

Bog's mother took his hand. “Come on, Bog. Let your farther be and you can tell me about it.” 

Bog frowned. He loved his parents, but he really hated it when they made him feel like a damned gobling (goblin child?), but he let his mother lead him away. 

She sat him down near the stream. “You really saw a camp?” 

“Aye, I did! I wasn't making stories. I'm too old for that.” Bog groused kicking his foot in the water of the stream that ran by their temporary camp. 

“I know son, I know,” his mother said soothingly. “Fairies in the Dark Forest. It's just...it's never a good sign, sweetie.” Griselda rubbed her chin. “Fairies in the Dark Forest means danger for all goblins, if they are coming from the south. Might have been a hunting party. Were they coming from the south? Could you tell?” His mother's voice was tinged with fear like his father's. Bog was slightly confused. 

“No, they were coming from the north, but the were heading south. I mean I don't know for sure, but that was the impression I got. Why are you both so scared of the south?” 

Griselda frowned reaching out to rub her son's cheek. “We found you in the south...it's...never mind. Anyway, Southern fairies are very dangerous, Bog. They kill goblins on sight, or capture them. They make goblins into servants...slaves.” 

Bog's eyes widened. “Why didn't ye ever tell me?” 

Griselda sighed. “I...Bog...there's a secret...and...we didn't want to hurt you. We both decided to wait until you were older, but then...I didn't want you to know. Well, honey. 

We didn't see any reason to tell you...I guess I just didn't want to. I love you so much and as the years went by it seemed less important...” 

She was about to say something else when an alarm went out through the camp. Both of them stood rushing over to where Bog's father stopped the goblin guard who had come running. “Sire, there's been a sighting of fairies in the forest from the south!” 

Brynmor glanced toward his wife and son. “Pull up, now!” he commanded sternly. “We need to leave.” 

* 

Roland smiled contentedly. He was on his way to meet the Northern kingdom's traveling group. The king and his daughters were part of that group. He grinned. Marianne, his betrothed, was coming. Roland's father had thought it would be good for Roland to head out and meet them to escort them through the Dark Forest. The Northern Kingdom was soft, leaving the residents of the Dark Forest alone, pretty much staying out of the forest. Roland rolled his eyes. The only thing this marriage was going to be good for was that Roland would get two kingdoms to rule and he would acquire the combined force of two armies so he could rip the Dark Forest out by its roots! 

Goblins would be enslaved or killed, wiped out in the “wild.” The nomadic goblin kingdoms that roamed through the forest would finally be subdued and destroyed after he became king. Roland sighed happily at the thought as he glanced sideways at his goblin slave, Brutus. Brutus was a huge goblin specimen that Roland had captured as a child (with the help of his father, granted). 

Roland tugged on Brutus's lead, forcing the large goblin to stop. Roland pulled back on his squirrel's reins before lifting up on his stirrups, glancing back at his traveling party. All good hunters, each and every fairy with him. He had no fear of goblin attacks. “Hold!” Roland yelled. He motioned for one of the fairies, a young warrior named Nightly. 

“Fly ahead, take two of the other hunters with you. I need some fun while on the road.” 

Nightly nodded. “Yes sir.” He motioned behind him, two others taking to the air behind the young fairy and took off ahead of the group. Roland grinned. “Might as well see if I can capture a few new slaves for my dear fiancee,” he whispered to himself. Brutus glanced sideways at Roland, careful that his young master didn't see the look he gave him. Brutus hated the hunts.


	2. The Capture

Bog gathered his mother into his arms and moved her swiftly to the middle of their group calling out guards to surround the queen. He gave his mother a quick kiss on the forehead and took off to follow his father. Griselda tried to grab his hand, but Bog was too quick. She did not have the chance to tell him what she needed him to know... 

Bog met his father where he was speaking to several goblin warriors. “I want the children to be the focus of the heaviest protection. That is who they'll focus on if they see us.” Bog landed quietly, listening as his father spoke. Fairy attacks? He had never heard of them. He had been teased about them by other goblin children, but..well he had thought it some sort of cruel prank directed at him. 

His father turned and saw Bog standing head and shoulders above all the goblins. He reached out to take his son's arm. “I have an important task for you, Bog. Dangerous, but important. I need you to scout ahead for us. With your wings you can cover more ground, see more than any of us.” 

“Of course father, of course!” Bog smiled, eager to help. 

Bog took off immediately. His father frowned, watching him go. Griselda would kill him if she knew he had sent Bog off, but he had to think of the whole group not just his son. Though he prayed the spirits would keep the boy safe. He loved Bog; no one would ever say that Bog was not his son. 

* 

Marianne groaned loudly, again. She and Dawn were riding with their father in one of the carriages that was pulled by four of the stable's albino chipmunks. It was gaudy and a show of wealth that Marianne found ridiculous. Dawn didn't mind only because she got to pet and pamper the chipmunks. “Marianne, do stop groaning every ten seconds.” 

“Dad, I just don't understand why I can't fly with the guards, or ride along side on one of the dragonflies.” Marianne knew she sounded whiny, but she was missing so much inside the carriage. The the canopy was made of tulips and she couldn't see anything! 

“Marianne. It's the Dark Forest—there is nothing to see here.” Her father, a rotund fairy in his later years, was reading or at least trying to, but his eldest daughter was making that difficult. 

Dawn was working on one of her many dresses. She was sewing tiny white pearl-like flowers onto the hem of one of her dresses. “Daddy, maybe you should just let Marianne fly along for a while. There are plenty of guards. She'll be fine.” Dawn glanced up at her sister with a wink. 

Dawn could get their father to do almost anything. 

Marianne pressed her lips together as their father glanced up from his reading, his eyes moving between his two lovely daughters. He narrowed his eyes. “I'm not going to get a moment's peace, am I, until I give in?” 

Dawn looked up from her sewing and smiled. “It would probably just be easier to let Marianne have her way this time.” 

Dagda laughed. “Fine. Just stay close, alright?” 

“Yes, Daddy!!” Marianne flung her arms around her father's neck causing him to humpf and laugh as he hugged her with one arm. Marianne gave her little sister a loud kiss on the cheek and flew out of the carriage in a rush. 

When the guards saw the eldest princess come flying out of the carriage they nearly collided with themselves to follow her, but she swiftly turned in the air. “You guys are fine!! Don't worry!” 

She flew up ahead following the length of the caravan, swiftly outdistancing the guards. 

Marianne's mother had always called her daughter her little wild butterfly. Marianne was always too curious, too wild, and while Marianne tried to play the good princess, she liked swords, flying into unknown places—anything new and exciting. Her mother had said she was always looking for an adventure. Marianne twirled by a couple of the squirrel mounts as she glided beside the line. There wasn't a lot of flying space between the thick forest and the caravan, but Marianne was an agile flier as she grinned speeding along. 

She would give anything to have an adventure before she was married. 

* 

Nightly and the two hunters with him flew ahead of the party for a little distance before Nightly held up a hand indicating to the others to stop. Nightly was handsome in his own way, though there was a darkness to his eyes. He sniffed the air looking for signs of goblins when he lucked out. There to the left, no one else might have seen it, but Nightly wasn't just any fairy; he was a hunter, the prince's main hunter. Because of his skill and experience, it didn't take him long to find signs of goblins having passed close by in the last few days. With luck they would be moving slowly. He motioned for his group to fan out. 

* 

A small group of goblins moved through the underbrush of the forest. The clan chief, a short squat goblin who resembled a toad had heard that King Brynmor's group would be moving through this part of the forest and they were hoping to join. Being such a small group, they were easily picked off by bigger predators, a fear that they understood and could deal with. But becoming targets for the fairy slavers was the real worry. 

The tiny clan chief's wife stumbled. She was tiny for a goblin, thin and delicate like a cattail and was pregnant, due any day now. Traveling like this was hard on her. Under normal circumstances they would have made camp for the birth and until the gobling was old enough for travel, but the Dark Forest had lately become more and more dangerous for the smaller clans. Her husband hoped if they could find the main clan, they would have the safety of numbers for the birth of his first child and his wife would be well and safe; that was all he wanted. 

No sooner had he helped his wife to her feet than an arrow came out of the nowhere striking one of his goblin guards right in front of him. He knew its make instantly, fairy! Gathering his wife up as best he could, the goblin yelled for his men to protect the children and run! The goblins moved. Those who could fight gathered the children and their parents, splitting off into smaller groups and running. The hope was to find a place to hide in the deeper darkness of the forest. The chief saw the fairies coming, only three; they might stand a chance! While his clan scattered, the chief gathered his wife to him and moved as swiftly as possible. The three hunters were firing arrows and he heard the death cries of at least two of his clan. 

His heart jerked in response, but he kept moving trying to get his wife to safety. He saw his chance, there, it was hard to see—a hollow near the roots of the tree. He pushed her forward. “Hide!” he hissed. His wife obeyed, scrambling into the dark opening and disappearing. The goblin moved swiftly away hoping to draw the hunters' attention away from her. He hurried, scrambling under roots and twigs, dead leaves and moss making sure to check that they had spotted him. Arrows started to rain down on them from the three hunters. Clearly his people had scattered enough that the majority had gotten away if all three of the fairies had their attention on him. 

He was making ground, his knowledge of the forest and its undergrowth giving him the advantage when suddenly an arrow pierced his shoulder and threw him forward. He hit a knot of roots and tumbled head over tail until he crashed against a tangle of thorns, the arrow snapping off painfully, leaving its sharpened point and a hands-breadth of the shaft protruding from his shoulder. He was knocked senseless for a handful of seconds, but it was enough, for when he could see straight, he was surrounded. 

* 

Bog heard the sound of shouting. He recognized some as the voices of goblins, but the others were speaking in a language he didn't understand. As he flew closer he saw them—fairies! There were three of them in pursuit of a goblin that Bog only caught a glimpse of as the goblin moved swiftly ahead. Bog pressed himself against the bark of a tree, blending into the forest's darkness. He was trying to get a feel for what was happening when he saw one of the fey shoot an arrow. The arrow struck the goblin in the shoulder and sent him rolling with the momentum of his escape attempt. The fairies maintained pursuit. 

Bog's rage blinded him. They were hunting goblins! He pushed off from where he was hidden, swooping down on the three fey that surrounded the goblin. 

Bog landed and with a roar, swung his staff around hitting one of the fairies across the ribs with a shattering sound of breaking bone. The other two turned and for a moment they didn't react, they had never seen anything like Bog before, but then the one that was clearly the trio's leader snarled. “Capture it, if not, I want it dead!” 

The other fairy nodded and swinging his bow back over his shoulders, pulled a long, thin blade from a sheath at his side. He sneered at Bog, showing off square white teeth. 

Bog responded with a sneer of his own showing his own crooked and sharp fangs as the two circled each other. 

The other uninjured fairy lifted up the one Bog had felled with a number of shattered ribs. “Go, tell Prince Roland what's been found!” He pushed the man off. Bog spared a glance, but he had no idea what was said, not understanding their sing-song language, but it didn't matter. His blue eyes flashed with hate as he started at the fairy in front of him. 

The other came around the two of them attempting to box Bog in, but he twirled his staff over his arm and lashed out catching the one to his right under the chin, snapping his head back with an audible clack of teeth. The one to his left was clearly the more talented of the group as his blade came in low under Bog's staff and managed to nick him, his tough scaled hide protecting him from the worst of the blade's tip. 

Bog threw his arm to the side, the staff sliding along the length of it to slam into the chest of that fairy knocking him off his feet. The other took that opportunity to try flank Bog. He did come in close, his blade managing to slide between the scales and cut deep into Bog's side, bright red blood staining the blade crimson. The fairy didn't move for a moment in shock as he called out. “It bleeds in red! Not goblin green!!” 

Nightly struggled to his feet. “What?” But Bog snarled, grabbing the fairy who had cut him with one dangerously clawed hand, lifting him off his feet and with a hiss of vicious anger, snapped the fairy's neck. Nightly's eyes widened in shock. Few goblins possessed that kind of strength. Bog dropped the body. He was shaking a little. He had never killed an intelligent being before and he was shocked he had done it, but his rage had gotten the best of him. 

While his attention was on the body, Nightly moved, shoving his blade out with as much force as he could, the point hitting the creature before him and cracking one of its scales sliding into the thing. 

Bog gasped at the suddenly clarity of pain. He turned, yanking himself off the blade of the fairy spinning his staff around and slamming it along the side of the fairy's head with a dull thud, knocking the fairy out cold. 

Bog raised his staff, ready to plunge the sharpened end into the throat of the downed enemy, but he stopped himself at the last moment. 

His breathing was ragged with blind rage, the pain was growing quickly numb and the blood pumping from the wound felt cold. No, he told himself, he needed to stop, not another life on his hands. Bog moved swiftly over to the fallen goblin. 

Bog choked on emotion when he realized the goblin was alive. “Don't worry, you're going to be safe now. My father, King Brynmor, will protect you.” 

The goblin grabbed at Bog. “My wife, she's hiding! She's with child, please find her!” 

* 

The fairy made it back to Prince Roland and the rest of the armed group. “Sire! Sire!” He was holding his side and having difficulty keeping his balance or his lift, but when he came down to land he botched it and slammed to the ground painfully. 

Roland held his hand up for a stop, signaling with two fingers. Two men came rushing forward. “Explain again and where is Nightly?” 

The younger fairy gasped in pain as he struggled to explain what had happened. “A goblin with wings! It attacked us! Nightly sent me to warn you, Sire.” 

Roland frowned. A goblin with wings? He slowly smiled. “I must have this creature!! For my bride. The man that helps bring it down will be handsomely reward!!” 

* 

Bog managed to put the pain to the furthest reaches of his mind as he followed the goblin's instructions on to where to find his wife. The other goblins that the clan chief explained had been with them were long gone. Bog, seeing the few dead bodies, only hoped that they would find them eventually before the fairies did. He was flying in short bursts, the pain of his wound making flying difficult, until he finally spied the dead tree. “That has to be it,” he muttered to himself. 

He dropped down moving quietly, but with enough noise that she would know someone was out there. “Hello. I'm here to help. Your husband sent me.” Bog leaned in, his eyes taking in the darkness and filtering through it as only a pair of goblin eyes could do. There, cuddled to the side, shivering and trying to make herself small, was a tiny goblin woman, her belly swollen with child. When she saw him her expression fell into relief and she started to cry. Bog reached in with a clawed hand and helped her out. The fastest way to do this, to get her to her husband, would be to fly. He wasn't sure he could lift her in his current condition, but he had to try. 

“Hold on to me, alright? I'm going to fly you to your husband.” The goblin woman looked terrified, mixed with surprise, but she did as he asked which Bog found startling. Most goblins new to him were scared of the fact that he had wings. He supposed the situation warranted a different attitude. He carefully removed his hand from where he was holding back the bleeding and wrapped it around her, careful of her stomach and with a display of more strength then even he was aware he possessed, Bog took to the air. 

* 

The hunters, headed by their Prince, rode hard following the wounded fairy's instructions to find the winged goblin. Roland's grin was vicious as he spurred Brutus forward, giving him his head. Brutus caught the smell of goblin and headed straight for it. 

* 

Bog dropped down, blood running down his side and across his thigh by the time he got her to her husband. It took a great deal of care to fly her, which had him shaking by the end to get her down safely. Her mate came out of hiding throwing his arms around his wife and holding her tightly, the two of them sobbing. But that was when they all heard it, something large coming their way. Bog pointed. “My father's clan is that way. Go—hurry. I'll hold them off!” 

The clan chief took Bog into a swift embrace. “Thank you.” Then he grabbed his wife, the two of them disappearing into the undergrowth. Bog swallowed, grabbing his staff in both hands. He would give them time. His life for theirs. That was what a prince would do, that was what he would do. 

* 

Marianne was getting bored. Flying along with the long train of carriages, some loaded with luggage, others with members of the court, was beyond dull. Additionally, no one would “talk” to her. It was yes princess this and yes princess that...Marianne rolled in the air. She fell back, near the end of the long royal train when she saw her opportunity. No one was currently looking at her and there was a perfect opening off to the right. It wouldn't be hard to find the caravan again as big as it was....so with a mischievous smile, she darted under a twisted arch of branches and disappeared into the darkness. 

* 

Bog saw them and was surprised when the first thing he saw was another goblin, but it only took a moment to register that it was restrained as emerging from the darkness was a fairy riding a battle hardened squirrel. The blonde one yelled something, but Bog didn't need to understand the words to know that it was directed at him. He brought his staff up, ready to fight, despite the fact that he could see there were more coming out of the forest behind the blonde one. He snarled, but suddenly a rain of arrows came at him. 

He twisted and twirled his staff, deflecting the majority of them but one caught him in the soft, fleshy part between his shoulder plates and neck, another cutting deep across his cheek. One of the fairies came in close, his weapon catching what little light there was and gleaming in the forest's murk, though Bog easily swatted the weapon aside, moving in to slash with his claw. But in that same moment, three more fairy warriors surrounded him. 

Roland slid off his mount with a grin on his face that bordered on maniacal. He watched the winged goblin fight. The creature was wounded, but he kept fighting! It was amazing! Roland motioned to a few of the others in his group. “Get the net ready. I want it alive.” 

Bog took another stab to his side, causing him to buck away from the pain with a hiss. He swung around, using his wings to slap the fairy back, snarling as he defended himself. They were pressing the attack and he was bleeding from number of wounds of varying severity, when suddenly Roland shouted. “NOW!” 

Bog turned at the sound just as a net of bulldog ant silk was thrown over him. The weighted net caused Bog to fall to his knees struggling, pinning his wings and his arms effectively. The fairies moved in, beating him now trying to subdue him. Roland was laughing when suddenly there was a scream. 

“STOP IT!! NO!!” 

All eyes turned to see a fairy burst from the forest. 

Roland blinked in surprise. It was his fiancee, the princess Marianne.


	3. When the Light Falls

“Marianne!!” Roland rushed over and threw his arms around her. Marianne was stiff, holding her arms at her sides, her wings flat against her back, her attention on the goblin they had captured. Roland's embrace felt cold and slimy. She could feel something hard forming in her heart as she gazed at what he had allowed to happen to the goblin. 

The creature was bloody and Roland's men were moving swiftly to bind the bludgeoned goblin within in the net. He was forced down onto his knees as the guards worked to tie his arms and wings behind his back. Bog hissed his pain as he wings were bound, but then he was forced to stand. The fairies hobbled his ankles with chains so he could barely walk. 

Marianne tried to pull away from Roland. She could see even from here the pain that the goblin was in; she just didn't understand any of this! “Roland,” she began, attempting to remain as calm as she could. “What is going on? I don't understand! That's cruel! Let him go!” Marianne was shaking as tears she couldn't control were running down her cheeks. She didn't return his hug; she could barely stand to look him in the eye or to speak to the prince. 

Roland laughed completely ignoring or simply not registering the look she was giving him, or the tears in her eyes, as he released her from his embrace. 

“Well, my father thought we should meet your group and escort you through the forest. But I thought while I was here I could capture you a present! I found this splendid specimen and I just knew I had to have him for you!” 

Roland took her hand and tugged her closer to his prize, now manacled and restrained. 

“Look! it has wings! Do you know that goblins don't have wings? That makes this one truly valuable!” 

Roland motioned for the netting to be sliced away, which several fairy guards did, cutting away as much of the silken rope as they could. 

“Do you have any idea what a prize it is? You could sell it for a tidy sum, or train it for the fights or even make it a trained guard! Or simply hold on to it as a prize.” 

Roland was smiling from ear to ear, obviously pleased with his catch. “I will have a beautiful cage constructed for you after our wedding.” 

Marianne pulled away from Roland. “We have to help him! Can't you see he's hurt?” 

Roland laughed. “Oh sweet simple Marianne, these things don't feel pain the way you and I do. It's fine, but someone will examine it once we get back to the castle. Now come along.” 

He put his arm around her shoulders turning her away from the goblin. 

Marianne glanced over her shoulder at the goblin and saw that he was staring at her with brilliant blue eyes. She had to stifle the gasp that nearly escaped her lips at the sight of those eyes. She had never seen anyone with eyes like his...they were amazing....so beautiful! But they were also so full of anger and...sorrow. His eyes moved from her eyes to her wings then back to her eyes again. It was as if he were asking a question...Marianne wanted so much to rush over and free him, to talk to him....to understand. But Roland led her away. 

* 

The trek back to the caravan was quiet, at least on Marianne's part. Roland was anything but...he spent the trip telling her about the hunt, then about other hunts until Marianne was ready to vomit. 

She was still in shock at what she had seen, that her prince charming was so callous and violent and Roland continued to talk the whole while. He seemed completely unaware that his bride-to-be was upset or that she wasn't responding to him. He didn't really seemed to care. Marianne guessed he was accustomed to being listened to without interruption. Without realizing it, Marianne had started to keep a checklist in her mind of Roland's faults; he was cruel, violent, didn't listen, and didn't care. All of these traits manifested within the first few minutes of conversation. What else was she going to learn about him? It was apparent that her list of his faults was going to far outweigh his list of merits. 

* 

As they traveled the route back to the caravan, Marianne glanced behind her trying to see the goblin. The guards were now dragging the goblin whenever he stumbled and fell. It made her blood boil. He would stumble and the guards would pull on the rope they had attached around his neck like an animal, dragging him to his feet. She was sickened at their behavior. She had tried without success to get them to do something beside drag the poor goblin, but she was given looks by everyone as if she were insane. 

Roland kept treating her as if she was a simple child. He talked down to her until finally, angry and frustrated, Marianne gave up. When Roland tried to get her to ride with him on his squirrel, Marianne yanked away. “I would rather fly, thank you.” 

Roland pouted. “Ah come on sweetheart...” He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling and Marianne suddenly found herself wanting to hit him right in his perfect teeth. 

“I need to stretch my wings.” And with that Marianne took off. 

* 

When they caught up with the caravan, Marianne's father was thrilled that Prince Roland had come to escort them the rest of the way to the Southern Kingdom. He made a fuss over the young man and curled his lip in surprised disgust at the goblin Roland had captured. 

“Must we have that thing with us?” Dagda frowned when he saw Roland's men checking the bindings on the goblin they had captured. 

Roland smiled and bowed to her father. “I'm sorry sire, but I captured this rare specimen as a gift to present to Princess Marianne at our marriage. I mean sire—it has wings! But if you want we can kill it. I will. But I would still like to bring the body back, or at least the wings.” Roland smiled broadly. 

“NO! Please...ah...I want him alive and intact. He's to be my gift right?” Marianne swallowed looking anxiously between the two men until her father sighed. 

“Well dear, if Roland intended it as a gift then I suppose.” Dagda glanced at the young royal who smiled at his bride-to-be. 

Roland took Marianne's hand, kissing her knuckles. “Of course my love! He's for you. When we return I will have his wings clipped so that they remain intact so you will not lose your new pet.” 

Roland grinned squeezing her hand. Bile rose in her throat as she struggled to resist the urge to yank her hand away from him. 

Marianne struggled to smile back at Roland. All she could think about was that Roland was a monster! How could she marry someone that would treat another living creature the way Roland was treating the goblin? 

She found herself more furious and confused than happy. This was not the man she thought she was marrying! This was not at all what she thought she her meeting with the prince would be like....she swallowed, pushing the thoughts aside. Right now she needed to figure out a way to free the goblin. 

* 

As Marianne's mind wandered to thoughts of how to free the goblin, she missed the talk between her father and Roland, so she didn't catch when her father insist that Roland ride with them in the carriage. Roland laughed. “I would be honored!” He turned to Marianne lifting his eyebrows at her in a questioning request. 

Marianne frowned before she glanced toward Dawn who had been quiet during the whole conversation. Her little sister looked pale and uncomfortable. 

Marianne murmured. “If you don't mind, I'm tired and need to rest. Dawn would you mind riding with me in the princess carriage?” 

The princess carriage was set aside for the two young women. It was a much smaller carriage, mostly for the two sisters to sleep in while traveling, even though they had been spending the bulk of their time in the main royal carriage with their father. 

Their father frowned. “Well...I don't...” 

Roland smiled graciously. “Perhaps it would be better for these two lovely princesses to go and get some beauty sleep. That way the men can discuss politics and other things not suited for such sweet, delicate ears.” 

He tugged Marianne against him, surprising her when he kissed her on the mouth. Marianne did her best not to react, but she managed to make them think her flush of anger was a blush pushing herself away. Dagda laughed. “Oh, young love. Alright, Roland is probably correct. You go and rest my dear.” 

Marianne swiftly excused herself grabbing her sister's hand and dragging Dawn behind her. 

* 

Once the two young women were alone Dawn pulled her sister into her arms. 

“What's going on Marianne? What's wrong? And was that a goblin he had prisoner?” 

Marianne sagged into her sister's arms. Of course Dawn would see the situation for what it was and not be blinded. She hugged her tightly. “Oh Dawn; it was awful! I don't know what to do! They captured that poor goblin and....he's for me...a wedding gift.” 

Dawn blinked in shock. “But...can Roland do that? I mean, capture a goblin? I thought we had some sort of understanding with them?” 

Marianne pulled back and gazed at her sister. “I guess Roland can...he doesn't seem the least bit bothered by what he is doing, but...we have to set the goblin free.” 

Dawn frowned. “Won't you get in trouble? Or won't Roland just go back and capture him again? He seems pretty proud of that goblin having wings.” 

Marianne frowned before she ran a hand over her face. “You're right...Uughgh! What can I do? Roland is planning on crippling him so he can't fly anymore...” Marianne's eyes widened in fear and sympathy, glittering with tears. “To never be able to fly again...can you imagine? I can't let that happen to him!” 

Dawn pulled Marianne back into her arms. “We'll figure something out Marianne.” 

* 

Deep in the darkness of the forest, Griselda scanned the upper reaches of the forest branches for her son when she saw movement from the edges of where their group was gathered. It was a goblin couple staggering toward them. She immediately broke free from the guards surrounding her and yelled for someone to fetch her husband. She grabbed the pregnant goblin woman just as she collapsed to her knees grasping her belly. 

Griselda dropped down next to the woman and positioned her so she could lay her back against Griselda's chest. Griselda reached around and felt the pregnant goblin's stomach and winced. 

“You're in labor, your little one is anxious to greet the world.” Griselda smiled, working to keep her voice light, but she was concerned. 

The younger goblin hissed in pain, her voice strained. “Your scout saved our lives! He stayed and fought them so we could escape. A winged goblin!” She gasped as a contraction hit her. 

Griselda sucked her breath, choking on a sob. 

Bog. 

It was her Bog, her son. But the woman screamed and Griselda had to put her own concerns aside to focus on helping bring this new life into the forest. 

She glanced at the goblin's mate. “Your wife is going to deliver now. I want you to hold her hand and tell her how much you love her and how beautiful she is, alright?!” 

The chief nodded. The goblin looked to be in shock as he gripped his wife's hand in his. “You can do this,” he whispered to her. 

Griselda smiled down at the younger woman. “I promise this is all going to go well—now I want you to push..” 

* 

Bog was terrified. He had no idea what was going to happen or what to do, so he turned that terror into defiance and anger. It blazed hot in his blood making it easier for him to deal with the pain he was in. 

He would not let them see how much he hurt, he would not let them know what they had done to him. Neither would he let them see how scared he was...he would rather die than admit that these fairies frightened him! What bothered him more than the fear, was that he didn't understand their language! 

They spoke around him and he had no clue what was going on; he only knew they were talking about him because they would stare at him like he was an animal or a thing. Some of them seemed disgusted whereas others appeared to be scared. 

But the not knowing...that scared him the most. The group of fairies he was with had traveled for a long distance. He was exhausted, but at least the bleeding from his wounds had finally ceased. He was feeling slightly dizzy by the time they arrived, meeting with another group of fairies. 

This group was much larger than the group that captured him. Bog thought it might actually be the one he had seen the day before. 

When they arrived, there was a lot of talking. Bog saw one, an older fairy, who by the way the others treated him and the way he held himself, Bog would guess he was a king or clan chief. 

His eyes wandered to the female fairy who had arrived when he was being netted. By the way she was reacting toward the king fairy, Bog got the impression that they were related...which would mean she was a princess maybe? 

He had seen her when she arrived among the group of hunter fairies, a flash of color so beautiful that for a moment he had been distracted from his situation. He had never seen anything in all his life that was as beautiful as her...the purple-winged fairy. 

He wasn't sure if he was reading her expression correctly, but she seemed upset by what was happening. 

He hoped that was true; it would be nice to believe that not all fairies were like the brutes he had encountered, but Bog did not hold out much hope for that. He did notice that she seemed disgusted by the golden-haired male. As the hunting group melded with this group, the golden-haired fairy seemed to be showing off to this “king.” 

Bog was yanked along until they had him at the end of a long caravan, his rope tied to one of the pack chipmunks traveling with the group. He stumbled, but he was yanked to his feet. After that the rest of his daylight hours were a blur of walking along behind the animal. By the time evening fell he was delirious from blood loss, lack of water and food and the hours of walking. 

When the caravan stopped for the evening and started to set up camp, Bog collapsed. The fairies were too busy to bother with the goblin. The only time any of the fairies paid any attention to him was to move him from being tied to the chipmunk. They pounded a stake into the ground and tied him there. 

He tried to stay awake and alert, but he was dehydrated, suffering from blood loss and the long trek had taken much out of him; he passed out as soon as he was left alone. 

* 

He woke later to the feel of someone touching his face. The touch was soft, gentle even. Bog didn't react at first. It was...nice. He wanted to drift back to sleep with that gentle touch on his face. But then the memories of what happened came flooding back to him and he sat up, flinching away from whatever was touching him, but to his amazement he saw the purple-winged fairy kneeling beside him. 

* 

Marianne had brought a skin of water with her and some food. It wasn't much and she wasn't really sure what goblins even ate...she knew the stories, but she brought some berries. She waited until the camp was mostly asleep, the only people up were the first shift of guards. Marianne easily slipped past them until she saw the goblin. He was lying on his side, his wrists bound to a stake in the ground. Marianne growled to herself. How could they! But then it occurred to her...he was supposed to be hers...well then, if he “belonged” to her then she was going to take care of him. She didn't need to be sneaking around! She was a princess damn it! Roland said the goblin was a gift, then she was going to accept her gift. 

She smiled and boldly walked over to where the goblin lay. She leaned over to check this breathing, her heart bouncing painfully in her chest, but after touching his neck gently she felt a pulse. Marianne leaned back on her knees relaxing a little. As she gazed down at him she frowned. He was actually interesting looking, not “handsome” really, but there was something about the way he looked that was...attractive. She shook herself, but she reached out and stroked his face, all sharp contours and points. She had just traced her fingers along his sharp nose when his eyes flew open. His hands were clawed and with his mouth slightly opened, she could see the hint of fangs. He looked dangerous. But he also looked...intriguing? 

His eyes widened in panic. He tried to get away from her touch, but the bindings on his wrists stopped him short causing him to jerk back. “It's okay,” she assured him in a soft voice. “I'm not here to hurt you!” Marianne put her hands up, though she was scared. She dropped her voice to a soothing whisper. “It's alright. I brought you some food and drink. I won't hurt you.” She was using a sing-song lilt to her voice hoping to calm him down as she shuffled back from him. He stared at her, his eyes wide and so incredibly blue even in the flickering light of torches and campfires the blue seemed to glow. She had never seen anything quite so beautiful. 

Marianne slowly held out the water skin to him. The goblin looked at it, then at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

“It's water.” She demonstrated by removing the wooden stopper and holding up the milkweed-skinned container to her lips, taking a long sip of water. She then handed it to him. He stared at it, then back at her. She realized that he would not be able to hold it to his mouth and drink with the way his hands were tied. She edged a little closer, the goblin warily watching every move she made. When she decided she was close enough, she held the water bag toward his lips. He allowed her to hold the skin over his mouth. 

When he felt the first drops of liquid he eagerly drank from it. She moved closer holding it up for him. 

This near to him, she was able to get a closer look at his fangs, his tongue, the water dripping down his chin. For a moment there was a shiver of something deep in her stomach watching his tongue, the glint of fangs, something she had never felt before. She felt exhilaration, but it also scared her! She swiftly threw those strange and confusing feelings to the side as she lowered the water skin. 

He tilted his head sideways gazing at her with those incredible eyes. 

She swallowed down her nervousness and pulled out the bag of berries. She dumped some in her hand and held them out to him. 

Again, he tugged at his arms then sighed in frustration. Marianne moved closer holding her cupped hands under his mouth. He glanced sideways at her, but she smiled. “I trust you. Go ahead.” 

Still he hesitated so she brought her cupped hands to her mouth and leaned in to grab a berry with her tongue and teeth. He watched her intently as she ate it then grinned at him. 

The goblin actually smiled. 

That strange tickle in her stomach happened again. She held her cupped hands out to him. The goblin glanced up at her and then learned down and scooped up berries with his tongue. She felt goosebumps race up her arms, then down to where it burned in the pit of her stomach when his tongue brushed her palms. It was strangely erotic and completely...wrong? She flushed, glancing away from him. 

The goblin did the same maneuver again with his tongue, but this time he spilled some of the berries out of her cupped hands. 

Marianne gasped. “Oops!” 

She reached down and picked up the berries. Then without thinking, she reached out toward him. He stared at her, an odd expression on his face for a split second before he opened his mouth and let her place the berry on his tongue. Her heart was beating so fast that she could barely hear herself think. 

She watched him eat chew and swallow that bite before she offered him more. He opened his mouth and she placed the berries on his tongue. 

They stared at each other while she fed him, her fingertips touching the slightly rough texture of his tongue as she did so. About the fifth time she placed berries in his mouth, Marianne decided to be brave and touch his teeth just before withdrawing her fingers. The goblin went still, letting her trace his fangs when suddenly a voice broke through their strange...companionship. 

“Marianne?' 

She jumped in surprise, yanking her hand back, her fingers catching along the edge of one of his fangs. The goblin snapped his mouth shut turning, his reaction to get to his feet in defense which caused him to wrench his arms as he tried to get to his feet, but he stumbled. His bound arms and wings threw him off balance causing him to hit the ground hard. 

“Oh no!” Marianne started to lean over to help the goblin, but Roland grabbed her by her upper arm and roughly yanked her back causing her to spill berries everywhere. 

“What's going on here? What were you doing? It bit you!” Roland shouted, one arm around Marianne while he leaned forward and slapped the goblin so hard across the face that the goblin's head snapped backwards. 

“Roland stop!!!” Marianne turned pushing herself away from Roland. 

“I was giving him food and water!!! He belongs to me and I wanted to feed him!!” She shoved Roland so hard in the chest that the blonde fairy stumbled backwards in surprise. 

“What?” He sounded startled. 

The goblin was growling, his blue eyes on Roland, but otherwise made no other move. Marianne dropped down beside him and surprised both goblin and fairy prince when she cradled the goblin's head on her lap. 

“You gave him to me correct? Well then I want him fed and taken care of!” She narrowed her brown eyes at her intended with enough heat that Roland took a physical step away from her. 

This was not at all what he wanted in a princess! His hand unconsciously clenched into a fist at his side, the urge to backhand her so strong that he almost didn't fight the urge...luckily, good sense took over and he released the fist he had been holding. 

“No, you're right. I did give it to you as a gift and what good is a gift if it dies? Fine. From this point out I will make sure it is watered and fed.” 

Marianne stroked the goblin's head. “I will make sure he is watered and fed. You don't have to worry about him anymore.” 

* 

Bog was confused by what was going on, but he didn't move. Not only was the fairy's touch calming, he could tell by the heat in their voices and the exchange of expressions, that these two were fighting. 

The purple-winged fairy had been...kind. Not just bringing him water and food, but helping him eat and drink too. Her touch had been...he wasn't sure...he had never felt anything like her touch before...it was almost like it burned, stirring things in him he had never felt before. Watching her face...it was quite expressive and her eyes; they reminded him of some stones he had found as a child that had been naturally polished by the water of a stream. His mother had told him they were called golden rays...they were special stones that represented the all-seeing, the all-knowing...Bog had them made into part of his staff that was now lost somewhere in the woods. And her eyes; they had a depth to them that made him think of those precious stones. 

* 

“Roland. He's mine. I want to feed him and care for him.” Marianne's jaw was set tight and her eyes were hard. Roland stared at her then threw up his hands. “Fine, fine. He is your responsibility. Just be careful. It bit you! And it has claws. You should get them removed or have them filed down. Same with the teeth. These creatures are not play things...I could have that done for you, you now...part of my gift.” He gave her that smile that she was coming to hate in such a short period of time. 

“No. I want him to stay that way he is...I'll...ah...train him.” She winced when she said it, but Roland smiled. “Alright darling. You have your fun, but please be careful. I don't want anything to happen to that pretty little face of yours or to have to have it put down.” 

Roland glared once at the goblin and left. Roland looked as if he wanted to say something else, maybe even take back his gift, but he instead turned on his heel and walked back to the main area of the camp. For a moment, the thought that the younger sister would make a better wife floated through his mind. 

* 

Marianne sighed in relief once Roland was out of sight. 

She turned back to the goblin to check his face where Roland had hit him. 

“He is such a jerk,” she hissed. 

She frowned examining his face. “You'll be alright I think.” 

Bog stared at her, watching her every move. 

Marianne dropped her hands from his face. “Do you have a name?” 

He tilted his hand so she pointed at herself “Marianne. I'm Marianne.” 

She reached out and touched his chest, then touched her own. “Marianne.” 

He stared hard. It was slightly uncomfortable, like he was looking into her instead of at her. “Marianne.” She pointed at herself again. 

He pressed his lips together then with a heavy accent he spoke. “Maueann?” 

Marianne grinned with delight. “YES!” 

She pointed at herself again. “Marianne.” Then she placed her fingertips on his chest. He glanced down at her hand then back up at her. His accent was thick, but she found she liked it as he murmured “Bog.” 

“You're name is Bog?” 

He nodded. “Bog.” 

She smiled softly. “Well, I'm pleased to meet you Bog.”


	4. Learning to talk

The caravan had been traveling for a couple of days. The large group moved much slower than Roland's hunting party and it was clear the young prince felt frustrated. At the rate the caravan was traveling, they might be out of the woods and entering the Southern Kingdoms in the next five days. Marianne had overheard her father and Roland discussing how to try to shave some time off their travel in order to make it out of the forest before the rains came. The skies that could been seen through the heavy canopy of the Dark Forest had been cloudy all day and the air had smelled of rain, though no rain had yet fallen. Marianne hoped that she could discover a way to sneak Bog free before they arrived at the Southern Kingdoms, but she also felt that the task might be beyond her capability. There were just so many fairies around, between Roland's hunting party and their own mess of guards, servants and miscellaneous persons, someone was always awake and running about. 

* 

Marianne had taken it upon herself to take food and water to Bog, not relying on Roland to make sure the goblin was fed. Her father said nothing about her caring for the goblin, but Roland seemed...uncomfortable at the least. Roland had sent one of his men to take care of the goblin's wounds, but Marianne was not happy with the care the goblin received. She also didn't like the fact that Bog was dragged behind the caravan, forced to walk, bound and led like a common...thing. 

* 

The sky was turning pink as the sun sank towards the forest-obscured horizon and the large caravan began setting up camp for the night. Marianne had made a decision about Bog's situation and now she was going to do what she thought was best for the goblin. 

Marianne flew to the back of the line to take care of Bog. She didn't need to worry about Roland; he was busy impressing someone or other...she wasn't sure who and she didn't care. She had seen him talking to one of the female guards, flirting and clearly sweet-talking her. Whatever. 

She had tried to bring up the marriage to her father. She wanted to discuss her reservations, but her father would not hear any of it. Marianne had never felt rejected and humiliated before, but the way her father was treating her now made her feel like an object in a chess game and not a precious daughter. 

Somehow she would find a way out of this marriage. She wasn't sure how, but she was determined that any man who could treat another creature with such disregard was not someone she wanted to spend her life with. 

* 

Marianne smiled when she saw Bog. He was tied to one of the pack chipmunks looking tired from all the walking. His tall, lean form looked wilted, covered in the dirt of travel. She landed lightly beside the chipmunk that Bog had been secured to. She rubbed the animal's head and passed it a bit of sugared nut before she walked back to Bog. He smiled when he saw her and waited patiently while she untied him from the chipmunk. The last few evenings it was Marianne who came to secure Bog to the stack that he was usually tied to. She would bring him food and drink, make sure he was as comfortable as he could be before the guards came to watch over him. 

It still hurt Marianne to see his wings wrapped in ropes, pinning them to his back, and with chains around his wrists. She could only imagine how uncomfortable he was. 

Marianne wrapped the rope around her arm so she could walk beside him as she started to lead him away from the chipmunk. 

“Hi Bog.” She smiled. 

Bog smiled at her in return. It was a hesitant smile, but it was there all the same. “Mauenna.” 

She grinned. She liked the way he said her name, the way his mouth moved over the letters. 

“Are you doing alright?” She asked with real concern. 

Bog frowned then nodded. “Oke” 

She smiled then whispered. “Liar.” 

Bog frowned at her not knowing the word she had said but it seemed that she didn't really expect an answer. 

Marianne walked around the line of pack chipmunks and other pack animals whose handlers had come to water and feed them. She took Bog along with her as she started walking back the way she had come. Bog frowned in confusion. They were clearly going somewhere else than his usual spot of confinement. 

Usually she took him to a place near the pack animals and made sure he was fed and given water, but she clearly had different ideas tonight. 

The other fairies stared silently at the princess as she brought Bog over to the princesses' carriage. 

She started to go inside, pulling the thick plum colored curtains out of the way, taking Bog with her, but he pulled back on his rope. He could tell this was no place for him! 

She had just stepped through the curtains when she felt Bog pull back. Marianne glanced over her shoulder to see Bog staring at the carriage, blue his eyes wide. 

She smiled at him. “It's okay, come on.” Marianne just motioned with her free hand. 

Bog frowned at her, but she smiled and motioned again for him to follow her. She could have tugged on the rope, forced him inside, but she didn't want to treat him like an animal but like a person. 

He frowned deeper if that were possible, his eyes wandering over the carriage. Marianne watched his face, the deep furrowed lines around his mouth and eyes as he stared at the carriage. She could only imagine what he was thinking. He was clearly not comfortable, but after a long moment of contemplation, he stepped forward. 

* 

The steps up into the carriage were too small for his larger feet. Bog had to take the steps slowly, yet it was still awkward for him to climb the stairs. He also had to nearly fold himself in half to get through the carriage's opening. Once she had him inside, she dropped the rope and pointed at some flower petal cushions. Bog stared at them, then back at her. Marianne motioned sitting, the pointed at the pillows again. 

Bog pressed his lips together then blew air oot in frustration, but did his best to sit. Bog had to fold his legs up and hold his arms close and he felt awkward with his wings bound. 

Marianne smiled trying not to laugh. He was so tall, lean and he looked so annoyed! She nodded at him smiling. Bog gave her a frustrated look that had her struggling to suppress a laugh. She turned around and fiddled with a large wooden chest that she had brought to the carriage earlier. Inside was a healer's kit, washing supplies, and smelling sprays, a few brushes and other odds and ends for grooming and healing. She dug around in the box pulling out a few things that she had requested be included in the chest: a water skin, a walnut bowl, and a rag made from soapwort, rose water spray and some healing ointment and bandages. 

Soapwort was not just used for its soapy lather, but also because it was a mild disinfectant, so it would be good for making sure his wounds were properly cleaned to avoid infection. 

Marianne sat down across from him taking a breath. 

“Okay, I'm going to clean your wounds and you. Okay?” 

Bog just stared at her. She liked the way he would stare at her mouth when she spoke, trying to work out the meaning behind her words. She could tell he was highly intelligent, an aspect of him she immediately liked. 

Bog continued to stare causing Marianne to sigh. Very well; she was just going to have to show him. She took the water skin and poured water into the walnut bowl. She then put the soapwort into the water and with her hands, lathered it up. She showed him the soap bubbles, then ran the rag down her arm. 

“See, washing...” 

He stared at her arm then at her. He frowned. She could tell he was working out what she wanted, then he surprised her by holding his bound arms out. Marianne smiled moving slowly and started to clean him. She washed away the dried blood that was still present around his wounds. With a deep frown, Marianne carefully inspected his wounds. Whoever had tended them before had done a poor job. Marianne ground her teeth in angry frustration. No one, no living creature should be treated with such disrespect, she thought to herself. The little black ball of hate that was building toward Roland grew. 

* 

She took care of his wounds, first cleaning them carefully. She could tell they still bothered him by the slight jerks and whispered hissing, but Bog never pulled away. When she was finished cleaning, Marianne reached into the large box for the healing aid materials. She lathered his wounds with ointment made from yarrow, lavender and comfrey. He winced a little, but relaxed as she finished applying the ointment and laid some woven corn silk bandages over the wounds. 

“There, now they should heal better.” 

She smiled at him. “Okay, now to finish making you all clean.” 

She slowly went about washing the rest of him. He was silent during the whole procedure, watching her every move with those startling blue eyes. Marianne was surprised how intimate the whole thing felt. She hadn't anticipated...this....closeness when she decided to do this, running the damp soapy rag along his arms, his chest his neck. Her breath caught, her heart beating faster...what is going on with me? she wondered for a moment. 

She stared at his chest, fascinated by the beautiful layering of his scales. She ran her hands up over his shoulders plates, then his neck again. His eyes followed her every movement. She carefully washed off his face, staring into those blue eyes of his...her heart was beating so fast as she ran the cloth along his jaw. She swallowed nervously casting her eyes down as she placed the rag back in the water. She shifted her position to get the back of his shoulders and drag the cloth down his spine and along his wings the best she could despite the ropes. Bog suddenly responded, his back arched when she ran the soapwort down his back, careful of his bound wings...but then... he moaned!! At the sound of his moan Marianne's whole body felt on fire. 

* 

Bog watched her as she cleaned his wounds then started to wipe him down. It was a little strange being “bathed” by this fairy, but she was...beautiful, like a living breathing flower and her kindness seemed genuine. Plus it was nice to get some of the dirt off. 

Her cleaning and binding his wounds was a relief, but he schooled his reactions. That was until she moved to clean his back. The slow drag of the soapwort on his most sensitive area, the space between his shoulders and along his spine, the way she stroked his bound wings and then when she touched his lower back, no amount of forced calm could keep the low moan from escaping. 

* 

Marianne stopped for a moment going very still. Bog did the same. She suddenly reached out and did the same motion again, dragging the soapwort along his back. The motion caused Bog to jerk and try to stifle another moan. Marianne flushed, her eyes widening. Her brown eyes move to stare at Bog who was blushing furiously. The slight pink on his cheeks was so...attractive. It made her feel funny, the way the blush on his cheeks spread to his neck, the sound he made when she stroked his back...she was suddenly very.... 

She started to open her mouth not sure what she was going to say, when the carriage curtains were thrown aside and Dawn came flying in. “Hey Marianne....” 

Bog jerked away from Marianne's touch. Dawn started to let out a scream, but Marianne moved swiftly, tackling her sister to the cushions, her hand going over Dawn's mouth. Bog watched the two fairies in confusion, but he didn't move except to try to make himself as small as possible while Marianne tackled the other fairy. 

“DAWN, shut up!!” Marianne hissed. She was straddling her sister, both hands over her mouth. Dawn stopped struggling and stared up at her sister with wide blue eyes. 

Marianne stared back at her. “You going to be quiet?” 

Dawn nodded mutely under her sister's hands and Marianne slowly released her. 

Dawn sat up, pushing herself back to the other corner of the carriage away from the goblin. 

“What is he is doing in here?” 

Marianne sat back with a sigh. “I wanted to tend his wounds because Roland only had someone do a cursory cleaning on them and I wanted to wash him. Walking at the back of the caravan like that...he is probably feeling filthy and disgusting.” 

Dawn frowned staring at the goblin. Bog stared right back. 

“Why is he staring at me?” Dawn asked pointing a shaky finger at the goblin. 

They both turned to look at Bog. He was indeed staring at them. Marianne sat back and pointed at her sister. “Dawn.” 

Bog stared hard, watching Marianne's mouth. She pointed again at the lighter fairy and said the word again. “Dawn.” 

Bog frowned then with effort he tried to say the name. “Daun.” 

Dawn gasped. “Did he just say my name!?!” 

Marianne grinned. “Yep. His name is Bog.” 

Dawn giggled. “Bog. Hi Bog!” She waved at him, suddenly all smiles. Bog smiled just a little as if he wasn't sure how to react. This lighter fairy was way too...much. He couldn't think of a word for her, but she was obviously overly energetic. 

“Can I touch him?” Dawn asked her sister, her eyes wide and innocent. 

Marianne frowned. “I guess you could try asking him.” 

Dawn scooted closer putting her hand up. “Can I touch you?” 

She mimicked touching her arm then put her hand out to him. Bog frowned staring hard. Dawn smiled. “Wow, his eyes are so blue!” 

Marianne nodded unaware of the blush on her cheeks. “I know.” 

Dawn mimicked again and Bog seemed to understand as he nodded and held his bound arms out to her. Dawn slowly touched him and gasped. “Oh wow! I thought he would feel like tree bark, but he doesn't at all! It's really weird; his hide is rough but...I don't know...it's kinda nice too.” 

Bog remained silent as he watched the clearly younger fairy rubbing his arm. It was much different than when Marianne touched him. This was...not exciting. That was the best word he could think of for right now. The little fairy seemed fascinated as she reached out, moving her hand slowly up and down his arm, giving him a chance to refuse her touch. Bog didn't move as her hand reached for his face. 

Dawn grinned. “Wow, he is so...pointy!” 

“Shh...Dawn not so loud,” Marianne stressed. 

Dawn frowned. “Why? I mean he belongs to you, can't you take him where you want?” 

Marianne sighed. “Yeah, but I don't think Dad or Roland would be too happy about him being in here with us.” 

Dawn made a face. “Marianne you're a princess, I mean you really need to learn to push your limits! Bog belongs to you, if you want him in the carriage with you then you should be able to have him in the carriage. I can work on Daddy if he gets upset....” Dawn smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. Marianne laughed rolling her eyes. 

“Okay fine; you're right. Would you be okay with it if he rode with us?” 

Dawn tilted her head studying Bog. Bog did the same and Dawn giggled. “Yeah, he isn't so bad really. Maybe we can teach him other words!” 

Marianne nodded. “Maybe he can teach us Goblin?” 

Dawn gasped. “Oh wow, I hadn't thought of that!! 

Marianne gave Dawn a serious look. “So you want to help me with him?” 

Dawn nodded. “Yes.” 

“Sister swear?” 

“Sister swear.” Dawn put her hand out and Marianne pulled her into an embrace. “Sister swear.” 

* 

Marianne decided that she was definitely going to push her limits starting with untying Bog. When Marianne unbound Bog's wings, he was completely surprised. He had not expected this level of trust from her. He only opened his wings a little wincing; not a full stretch, but just enough to feel them move. Marianne motioned, asking him if he would like her to clean his wings. Bog flushed when he realized what she was pantomiming, but he consented. 

* 

Marianne ran the rag of soapwort over his wings carefully, noticing the rips and tears as she did so. Some of the rips and tears she could tell had occurred long before he was captured. But others were clearly new. For some reason it hurt her to see them, but his wings were along the most beautiful colors she had ever seen. They at first appeared clear but as she washed them, she could see colors, iridescence shades that she just knew would catch the sunlight and make his wings glimmer. His wings were really beautiful. She gently applied ointment to the new tears on his wings which made Bog shudder. 

* 

Dawn had flown out to get some food, to bring their tea set to the carriage and to let their father know that the sisters wanted to dine alone that night. Soon the three of them were sitting around a small, round wooden tray in the center of the carriage. On it was a tea set with some dandelion tea and a handful of violet and pansy tea cakes, but they also had some baked mushrooms filled with cashew nut cheese. Bog was completely untied, sitting awkwardly cross-legged with a fairy sister on either side of him. 

* 

Bog had briefly thought of taking off, escaping when Marianne had freed him, but he wasn't stupid. He knew he wouldn't get far, wounded, surrounded...it wasn't the right time, wasn't worth the risk. Maybe, he thought, if he could build a trust with Marianne...so he sat awkwardly at their strange...table? And let these fairies teach him. 

* 

Marianne pointed at the table before she said, “Table.” 

Bog looked at the table then at her. She repeated it. “Table.” 

“Taubul.” He smiled showing off his fangs. 

Dawn pointed at her cup and said slowly. “Cup.” 

“Kap,” Bog repeated. 

“Wow, he is really smart.” Dawn grinned “He is going to pick up our language in no time!” 

Marianne smiled at Bog who felt very strange when she smiled at him. His heart sped up and he felt warm all over. He swallowed rubbing the back of his neck, but he returned the smile. 

It was clear they were trying to teach him their language so why shouldn't he return the favor? Bog pointed at the cup then said, “Kap.” 

Then he pointed at the cup again and said Cup in his language. Marianne tilted her head studying him. She pressed her lips together then slowly repeated his word. Bog smiled brightly and nodded. 

Dawn gasped. “He is going to teach us Goblin?! Oh my gosh!! This is so exciting!!” 

Dawn calmed down and repeated the word too. Bog nodded and said good in his language. 

Soon their dinner had turned into a teaching session as Marianne and Dawn taught Bog words and Bog returned the favor and taught them words in the goblin tongue. 

After a while Dawn was yawning. She stretched her arms over her head and sighed. “So is Bog going to stay with us tonight?” 

Marianne frowned then seemed to make a decision. “Yes. I think he should sleep in here with us. Are you okay with that?” 

Marianne glanced at Dawn who nodded. “Sure! It's like we're having a slumber party!” 

Bog looked between the two sister. Dawn fluffed some pillows and curled up closing her eyes. Bog looked at Marianne his blue eyes clearly asking what he should do. 

Marianne motioned for him to lie down. 

Bog frowned. “Are you sure?” 

Marianne didn't need to know goblin to understand what he was asking. 

She nodded. “Yes, you're sleeping here.” Marianne laid down and patted the pillows. Bog took a deep breath and laid down as best he could. It was a little uncomfortable because he was so tall, but it was so much better than lying on the ground tied up. 

Marianne watched him as he made himself comfortable. He laid down facing her. Marianne smiled softly when he laid down the two of them facing one another. 

“I like your eyes,” Marianne whispered. 

Bog had no idea what she said, but he liked the tone of her voice. He smiled at her. It was strange to lie there staring at her. She was really beautiful. Despite everything that had happened, he couldn't be upset about her. She seemed kind and she wanted to talk to him. 

Marianne smiled again and whispered. “Good night, Bog. 

Bog whispered. “Good night, Mauenna.”


	5. When Faced with Reality

Marianne woke slowly; her body took its time coming awake. She yawned and stretched with a small smile of contentment on her face.. She hadn't slept this well in ages. Not since before her mother died, if she was truthful with herself. At the same moment she was marveling at how well she had slept, she realized that she was pressed up against Bog, her nose against his chest, her arms cradled between their bodies. She could tell by his gentle breathing that Bog was still asleep, his arm laying casually around her middle. 

Marianne's emotions were conflicted. At the same time that she felt safe, protected in this goblin's arms, the urge to pull away wasn't very strong...she was also very aware of how he felt against her, the warmth of his scaled hide and he smelled nice too. This close, she could see tiny details on his “skin,” there were scars on his chest, small ones running criss-cross leaving deep marks on his hide. She could also see the folds and layers of his scales. 

Very carefully, she ran her fingertips along his chest. His hide had a nice feel to it, rough, but also soft. She couldn't really explain it, but as she caressed his chest she found herself enjoying the feel of him. 

She ran her fingers down over his stomach, fascinated by the way the plates layered and moved. She had just started to examine his side when she felt the change in his breathing that signaled he was awake. Marianne blushed. 

* 

Bog went very still. He was so still in fact, he was barely breathing. He wasn't sure what Marianne was doing. Was she...touching him? Her fingertips glided softly over him, feather-light touches that made his heart beat faster. What was she doing? But just as he thought that, Marianne's touch stopped. Bog squeezed his eyes shut in fear and annoyance with himself. What could he possibly be thinking...liking the touch of a fairy. Marianne shifted, trying to untangle herself from his long arms. Bog reluctantly opened his eyes. 

In his own language he whispered. “Sorry” 

Marianne frowned pushing herself into a sitting position. “No...ah...I'm sorry.” She pointed at herself. “Sorry.” 

Bog watched the movement of her mouth, his blue eyes making her only slightly uncomfortable. “Aurrie.” He straightened up. “Bog aurrie.” 

Marianne smiled gently at him. “I'm sorry too, that must have been odd for you too.” 

Bog tilted his head tying to figure out her words, but she waved it away. “Don't worry about it. Are you hungry? Need to...you know...” 

Dawn, who had been sleeping at the other end of the carriage groggily muttered. “She wants to know if you need to pee or something else.” 

Bog still looked between the two sisters with confusion. Dawn made her fingers walk on her hand then squatted her fingers and started to make a pissing sound. 

Bog flushed looking between the two of them again and nodded. 

“Oh.” Marianne frowned. “How are we suppose to take him to relieve himself?!” 

They heard a light scratch at the tent door. “Princesses? Your father asked me to come and check to see if you were eating breakfast here or with him and Lord Roland. Uh, can I come in? This is strange talking to the curtain.” 

Marianne shook her head vigorously at Dawn who had opened her mouth at the same moment to yell a “yes” her eyes large and round as she stared at her sister, then nodded her understanding. Instead Dawn scurried over to the curtain. Sunny started to pull the curtains back a smidgen to see if anyone was awake inside when Dawn's hands shot out, grabbing the much shorter elf and hauled him, head first into the carriage. 

Sunny let out a squeak that would have done a mouse proud when Dawn hauled him in, rolled him on his back and sat on him, her hands on his mouth. Much like what Marianne had done to her yesterday. Sunny's brown eyes were wide. 

Sunny didn't look around the compartment because he was too distracted with the princess, his best friend and the woman he loved, sitting on top of him. He had had a dream like this once about princess Dawn. Which made the small man question whether this was a dream or not, and to keep his body from reacting to having the very attractive princess sitting on him. 

Dawn's light blue eyes flashed. She slowly brought one hand up putting a delicate finger to her lips. 

“Shhh...” 

Sunny nodded with wide eyes. Princess Dawn gingerly moved off of him, which Sunny found a disappointment, but she took his hand, helping him sit up and gently turned him around. When he saw the goblin sitting there, Sunny yelped and started to back up, but Dawn was behind him and hissed in his ear. “SHUSH!!” 

Sunny clapped both hands over his mouth staring wide-eyed at the goblin. “Hmehhmme??” 

Dawn leaned around him. “What?” 

Sunny took his hands away. “I said, what's he doing in here?” 

Dawn glanced at her sister. “Well, Marianne decided he needed to be treated better, so that is what we're doing.” 

Sunny frowned. “Isn't he dangerous?” 

Dawn moved to sit down cross-legged by Sunny. “Nope. He can talk too!” She smiled at Bog then pointed at Sunny. “Sunny.” 

She smiled at Sunny. “His name is Bog. Say hi!” 

Sunny looked at the princess with an expression that said she was crazy, but he loved her. He put his hand out toward Bog shaking a little as he did so. “Hey, I'm Sunny.” 

Bog reached out and it took. It required every once of strength Sunny had not to yank his hand back. “Bog.” The goblin said, his voice thick, pleasant with an accent. 

They shook hands. Sunny frowned, then smiled. 

“Hey! You think you could take Bog to the bathroom?” Dawn asked completely unworried about embarrassing anyone. 

Sunny looked taken aback. “What?” 

“Well he needs to go you know, and neither Marianne nor I can take him so...would you? Please?” Dawn fluttered her eyelashes. 

Marianne giggled. “I would appreciate it. Don't worry, I don't think he will try to escape or anything like that. He's really smart, and he is still recovering from his wounds. 

Though I am hoping to set him free before we arrive at the southern kingdoms.” 

Sunny took a breath then nodded. “Okay, fine, I'll take him.” 

* 

Sunny was leading Bog by a rope. First, leading anyone by a rope made Sunny uncomfortable and second, leading a goblin was even worse, especially the stares they were getting, though Bog was being quiet and cooperative. They found a spot just outside the camp and Sunny turned his back to give Bog some privacy. Sunny rocked back and forth on his feet looking around trying not to be tense...he kept thinking that Bog could easily sink his claws into his neck or those fanged teeth...so when Bog touched his shoulder Sunny nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“YIEEE!!” Sunny screeched, Bog instantly jumped away from him. 

“Spirits Bog! You scared me!” Sunny looked pale, his hand against his chest as if he were trying to keep his heart in place, then when he saw Bog's expression, somewhere between annoyed and upset, Sunny sighed. “Sorry man, really.” 

Bog said something that ended with “Sonnie.” 

Sunny blinked then smiled. “I'm sorry too Bog. We should head back.” 

While they walked, now side by side, Sunny glanced up at Bog then back down at his feet. 

“Sorry about all this...” Sunny muttered. “No one should be held against their will....it's not right. We don't do this sort of thing in the Northern kingdoms...” He was quiet for a little bit before he muttered. “Except elves are looked down on....heck anyone not a fairy...anyway. Though, I've been friends with Princess Dawn forever...and her dad is fine with it as long as that's it. Just friends. Not that I think Dawn sees me that way...I don't think...” 

* 

As the elf talked, Bog listened intently, slowly soaking up the words, the inflections, he was starting to pick up minor words....and some that sounded close to his own language. If he understood the elf, the elf, whose name was Sunny, liked the younger princess. Bog frowned, wondering why on earth the elf was telling him all of this, but figured it must be because he thought Bog wouldn't understand his words. He smiled to himself. Despite his terrible situation, it was amusing to know that he could understand most of what concerned the elf. Matters of the heart were the same for everyone. 

Sunny continued chatting to Bog as if he understood everything that was being said, which Bog didn't mind; it meant the elf was more comfortable with him, when suddenly Bog saw the one fairy that he hated, the one called, Ro-land. 

* 

When Roland saw the goblin, he smiled. 

Roland was angry. So angry he felt like killing someone! It was all Princess Marianne's fault too!! He had just left the princesses' carriage after being humiliated. 

Marianne had refused to see him and he was beginning to think something was wrong with her. She was not acting at all like the princess he remembered being engaged to! That princess had worshiped him, looked at him with fawning eyes and happily would have done anything he requested! It was a perfect match, bringing their kingdoms together and giving Roland more power than he ever thought he would have! But now she was acting like she didn't even like him! He wasn't sure what her issue was and then he saw the goblin. 

Roland sneered, watching that elf lead the goblin back from the woods. Its wings were unbound! The chains were missing from around its wrists and the damnable little elf was leading the creature by a rope!! What was going on? It was an conspiracy, it had to be! A conspiracy to make Roland look weak? Or was the princess just stupid? Thinking to himself that here was a chance to damage that fucking goblin that had been a pain in his side from the moment he had given it to the princess, Roland decided to take out his anger on an easy target and put this creature in its place. 

* 

Bog was listening intently to Sunny talk, which caused a distraction. As a hunter, Bog would usually have been more aware of his surroundings, but all of this, his capture, the fairies, the strange fairy princess, all had him off kilter. 

Which was why, even though he had noticed Roland, he wasn't aware of Roland's movements until it was too late. The fairy flew at Bog, hitting him with a cheap shot across his jaw that sent Bog stumbling backwards in confusion. 

Sunny yelped when his hold on the rope around Bog's wrist was violently yanked backwards out of his hands. 

Roland drove Bog to the ground pinning the much taller goblin down when Roland straddled his chest and started to pound on the goblin. Roland snarled, his fists flying back and forth while he pummeled Bog. 

Bog tried to protect himself by bringing his arms up, but his wings were crushed under him, his hands still bound and he was still wounded. In the back of his mind, Bog thought about fighting back, but he knew the chances of him succeeding were slim; he was wounded and outnumbered, the fight having drawn a small crowd. So he took the beating, to save himself and perhaps the elf as well... 

Bog managed to curl in on himself, providing some protection while Roland hit him with his fists. At one point Roland regained his feet and started to kick Bog with his armored boots. No one stopped or wanted to intervene, they simply watched...this was a prince and if a prince wanted to beat on a goblin, who were they to say a word against him? 

* 

Roland hit, punched and kicked Bog, his fists and boots acquiring flecks of blood from his victim and his own scraped skin, until he finally exhausted himself, his anger spent. With one final kick, Roland straightened himself out, ran his hands through his hair and spat at the goblin. His green eyes slid over to Sunny. 

“You may leave now, elf, and take that thing with you.” 

Roland strolled away smiling as if the violence that had just occurred was nothing more than a passing occurrence. 

“Let's see how her high and mighty handles that!” Roland muttered. He grinned thinking how he would be king someday, a king of two kingdoms and his future queen really should learn that her things were actually his and he would do what he liked with her, the kingdoms, and everything and everyone in those kingdoms. 

* 

Trembling, Sunny rushed over to Bog to help him to his feet. 

“Oh man...” Sunny muttered as his eyes glided over the beaten and bloody Bog. 

Bog looked terrible; all the work on healing his wounds had just been undone. Bog was bleeding from his old wounds and now some fresh ones as well. One of his eyes was swelling shut and a claw looked to be either broke and out of its socket. Either way, even if Sunny had not witnessed it, it was clear Bog had taken a bad beating. 

“I know it was hard, but you did the right thing not fighting back. Knowing Roland he would have taken that as a chance to kill you...no matter how valuable he thinks you are, even though he gave you to Marianne....” Sunny suddenly growled, “I hate him. He doesn't care about anyone but himself.” 

Bog swayed a little but Sunny helped to hold him upright, his previous fear gone, before they started to walk. 

“Let's get you back to the princess,” the elf murmured. The shorter elf tried to support Bog, making for an awkward situation, but Sunny did a good job, leading Bog back to the carriage under the stares of the fairies and elves in camp. 

* 

Marianne was searching through her traveling chest for something to give Bog to wear. She had had it brought to the carriage and she was now angrily muttering to herself about Roland and how she couldn't marry him. Dawn was busy sewing some flower petals on a dress listening to her sister complain. Marianne wanted to provide Bog with some sort of “protection,” something that would mark him as her property. Marianne cringed inwardly at that thought. No living being should be another living being's property, but there was nothing she could do about that at the moment. 

Right now she needed to protect Bog. Marianne muttered to herself...a piece of jewelry...anything so that she could let him have more freedom. She looked up when Sunny came back into the carriage with Bog. Marianne smiled and turned around when she heard her sister let out a gasp. Marianne turned fully to glance over at Bog. Her mouth fell open in shock. Bog was beaten and bloody. 

Marianne echoed her sister's gasp and hurried over to gingerly help settle Bog onto some cushions. 

“What happened?” She turned shocked eyes on Sunny. 

Sunny shrugged with a bitterness in his eyes and tone. “Roland happened.” 

“What?” Marianne turned her head to fully face Sunny. “He was just here...oh no...” Her voice dropped to a whisper of shock. 

Sunny ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Roland seemed pretty angry.” 

Turning back to Bog, Marianne frowned. “Oh Bog, I am so sorry! This is all my fault.” 

Marianne pressed her lips into a thin white line. “This...we...have to do something. Dawn can you take care of Bog for me?” Marianne started to get up and move toward one of the carriage entrances. 

Dawn grabbed her arm. “Where are you doing?” 

Marianne sighed. “I'm going to tell Roland the marriage is off.” 

* 

Marianne flew swiftly around the camp, her anger making her throw caution to the wind. She didn't care what this meant for the kingdoms. She was not going to marry this cruel fairy, prince or no prince! 

Finally, she saw him playing at swords with a couple of his men. Marianne flew straight at him hitting him in the chest with the flats of her hands. 

“YOU!” She landed, her hands balled on her hips. “I want to talk to you.” 

Roland snickered giving all his men that wink as he said to Marianne, “Come on Buttercup, we can talk in private over here.” 

Roland led her away just outside the edges of the camp. He turned, smiling down at her with his condescending smile that had her balling her hands into tighter fists. How had she ever thought this smug, pompous ass was worth marrying?? 

Roland cornered her against a tree, resting one hand over her head. He traced her jaw with a finger, but Marianne yanked her face away. 

“I want you to leave Bog alone!” she snarled, her brown eyes bright and sparkling. 

Roland frowned. “Who's Bog?” 

Marianne's lips were white as she glared at him. “The goblin you gave me!” 

Roland looked disgusted, narrowing his eyes and scrunching his nose up as if he had just smelled something foul. “You named it Bog? 

“Roland, you are not listening,” Marianne said slowly in a dark tone. “I don't want you to touch him again.” She pushed on his chest thinking to walk away, but Roland pinned her in place against the tree. “You don't want me touching your little pet? You know I gave him to you...I could take him away.” 

Marianne snarled. “Don't you touch him and you can't take him away. Once given, he is mine.” 

Roland looked angry, his mouth pressed in a hard time. “Well maybe I'll just touch something else? Something I am allowed to touch.” 

He reached down to run his fingers down her throat and over the tops of her breasts. Marianne slapped him across the face, but Roland grabbed her wrist forcing her hand back. He pressed his mouth against hers shoving her back against the tree. 

Marianne struggled against the larger fairy, but Roland pressed his body up against hers grabbing her other hand and pinning both arms over her head. 

“When you're my wife, you won't be able to tell me no, about anything, my Buttercup...you'll belong to me and I can do whatever is it that I want....” He held her wrists with one hand and forced her head back with the other as the smile on his face turned into something sinister. 

Marianne's eyes widened in panic. How could she have been so wrong?! 

Roland leaned in, his hand around her throat tightened just a little, just enough to be a threat. Marianne reacted the only way she could, she kneed him as hard as she could in the groin, protected not by any armor, but only his cloth pants. 

Roland let out a strangled sound immediately dropping his hold on her. 

Marianne pushed Roland back, knocking him onto his ass. She gave her wings a good flap and flew swiftly back to the caravan. 

* 

Bog was listening to Dawn chattering to the elf and him without a care in the world while she cleaned Bog's wounds and gave him new bandages. Bog found that he enjoyed watching her. She was like a living beam of sunlight! She was perfectly happy with the company around her. Through his pain, Bog was fascinated with the fact that Dawn was a princess who seemed to think there was no difference at all in how she should be acting around the two of them—she was just being herself. The elf kept watching her and talking to her with the look of a love sick beetle. 

He was starting to pick up every other word. He wasn't sure, but he thought she might be talking about dresses....when suddenly Marianne burst into the carriage. She was crying. 

“Marianne?” Dawn gasped at the same moment that Bog sat up straight also saying her name clearly. “Marianne?” 

If she hadn't been so upset, Marianne might have noticed that Bog said her name perfectly, but she only rushed in and surprised the goblin by wrapping herself around him. He tentatively put his arms around her looking at Dawn in confusion. Marianne was crying, her whole body shaking with heavy sobs. Bog gingerly ran his hands down her back, soothing her. 

Dawn glanced up at Bog as she placed her hand on her sister's shoulder. 

“Marianne? What happened?” 

Marianne's voice was muffled against Bog's chest. 

“I don't wanna talk about it. I just can't.” 

Everyone was quiet, not sure what they should do until Marianne pulled herself away from Bog, wiping her eyes with her fist, her expression angry. 

“We're leaving, tonight. I'm taking Bog back to his people.” 

Dawn and Sunny, both at the same time and in the same tone asked, “What?” 

Marianne's face was set, determined. “We're taking Bog home. We'll slip out tonight.” 

Dawn's voice was a squeak. “We?” 

Marianne reached out and cupped her sister's cheeks. “I can't leave you here alone with Roland running around. Please trust me, he's dangerous. I will have to deal with him when we return, but right now I want to get Bog out of harm's way. I don't trust Roland not to kill him.” 

Dawn gasped. “Really?” 

Marianne nodded solemnly. “Yes.” 

“Will you come with us Sunny? We could really use the additional help. No one knows the camp like you do—you could help us leave.” 

Sunny looked between the two princesses. They could easily simply order him to do it, but Marianne was asking, pleading really. He glanced at Dawn, her big light blue eyes staring at him with hope. Sunny's heart fluttered as he met her gaze. “Sure princess,” he said with a slight smile. “Of course I'll help!” 

Marianne smiled at him. “Then we must leave later tonight when the moon is high.”


	6. And the Rains Came...

Dawn was shaking, not from the chill that settled over the forest as night fell, but from nervous fear. Sunny glanced up at her; she had a woolen cloak of hemp and rabbit fur over her shoulders, the hood of which was pulled up to hide her blonde hair. Sunny was dressed in dark clothing of basic flax and dyed with walnut hulls and dandelion roots until it was a dark brown. His cloak was lined with plant fibers until it was warm and water-proof. 

They each had a pack of supplies on their backs, ready for the trek ahead. They were waiting quietly at the edge of the camp hiding behind a large elm tree. The shadows were deep here and most of the soldiers were not venturing past the circle of light cast by the campfires anyway. Marianne was sneaking Bog out and was to meet them there nearly fifteen minutes ago. Sunny glanced down again at the two additional packs he had managed to steal, each full to overflowing with dried foods and camping equipment, anything he could think of that they would need. He had managed to get one sword and three daggers for defense...not a lot, but it would have to do. 

Dawn shivered again prompting Sunny to reach up and take her hand. “You alright?” he whispered. 

She nodded, but a crease of worry marred her brow. “What could be keeping them?” 

Sunny squeezed her hand. “Bog isn't exactly easy to sneak anywhere.” 

Dawn nodded. “Yeah, you're right. I'm just...nervous.” 

“It's okay. You could stay here, you know.” Sunny squeezed her hand, but Dawn shook her head. “No I couldn't. Knowing you all were out there...that would scare me more than coming along with you will. Besides, I can't have you wandering off without me can I?” She gave Sunny one of her brightest smiles. The young elf blushed, but then nearly jumped a foot having to throw his hands over his mouth to stop the yelp that would have jumped from his throat at the sudden shadows that moved into view. 

Marianne hissed. “Shh!” 

Bog stood behind her, a long cloak with a deep hood thrown over him making the lean goblin resemble the shadow of a great monster, hunched over, with nothing visible but the long point of his nose. The whole effect gave Sunny the willies. 

“Sorry I'm late...” Marianne whispered. “Are we ready?” 

Sunny nodded. “I got a pack for the two of you too.” 

Marianne laid a hand on Sunny's shoulder. “Thank you.” She picked up her pack and handed the other one to Bog. He held it strangely; it clearly was not designed for a goblin, especially a winged goblin. Marianne took it from him. “Squat down, I'll help you.” 

She demonstrated squatting, which Bog did. He didn't tense when she moved around and started to adjust his arms and wings this way and that. He found it strangely...nice, despite their circumstances. With a bit of effort and some quick adjustments though, Marianne soon had the pack on him. He wouldn't be able to fly, but they were not planning on flying at the moment anyway. It was too dangerous to fly at night regardless and while Bog's eyes could see just fine in the dark, the other three of the group lacked night vision. Which was why they set off on foot. 

* 

On the other side of the camp, Roland sat in his tent sipping on a drink of rosemary wine. He was staring into the fire, his chiseled features morphed into a scowl. His trusted man Nightly drank with him (though Nightly was careful not to drink too much, he, unlike the prince, did not want to impair his senses) along with a trio of Roland's younger brothers, all nearly identical (they had come along on to meet the princess reluctantly). The young princes were only in their late teens, all tall, blonde and green eyed, and though they did not share their older brother's handsome features, they each had something that Roland seemed to be missing—there was something warm about each young man, a pleasantness of disposition that Roland lacked. The eldest of the three, Richard, frowned at his elder brother. “Why don't you just get another princess?” 

Roland had been telling his version of events regarding Marianne, about how she had broken his heart with her new attitude. 

Roland snarled. “Because this one will inherit all the Northern Kingdoms Richard, that's why you dolt. No other princess will inherit that sizable a kingdom except Marianne! And with the army I could raise as King of two realms, I could defeat the other kingdoms easily. All of the fairy realms united under one ruler...me.” Roland grinned. “I could raze this forest to the ground, take it from the goblins too.” Roland ended his little speech with a hiccup. 

Richard shared a look with his triplet brothers. While they supported their elder brother, the King-to-be, they all shared misgivings about Roland's single-minded obsession with conquering. Nightly glanced at the brothers, a sneer on his face which had the three of them quickly turning away. 

“Sire, I have an idea that might help you convince the Princess Marianne.” Nightly spoke quietly without looking up. 

Roland narrowed his eyes at Nightly. “What are you talking about you sneaky son-of-a-bitch?” 

Nightly frowned looking down at his mug of wine that he had barely touched. 

“I have heard rumors of the fey Sugar Plum living in these woods.” 

“Fey? You mean one of those more formless creatures that I read haunted the forest?” Roland looked slightly scared. 

Nightly nodded. “Yes, a spirit...fey...witch...it's said she can make a love potion, turn anyone's feelings toward love with one glance.” 

Roland leaned closer, the alcohol making his eyes shimmer in the firelight. “Really? A potion could make Princess Marianne fall back in love with me?” 

Nightly nodded. One of Roland's brother, Ralph frowned. “But...I thought those were just stories. I remember our nursemaid reading them to us. You bring the Sugar Plum Fairy a primrose and she brews a love potion...that's all stories from books isn't it?” 

Nightly shook his head. “No, it's not,” he said with a grim look. “She's real.” 

“How do you know?” Richard stubbornly folded his arms glaring at Nightly. The triplets didn't like their brother's right-hand man, not at all. He gave all three of them the creeps. 

Nightly smiled, his handsome features twisting into something predatory that had the younger men unconsciously backing away. 

“I've seen her,” Nightly stated succinctly. 

The three started to ask questions despite their misgivings about Nightly, but Roland held up a hand silencing them. “Can you find her?” 

Nightly smiled. “Yes sire, I can find her.” 

* 

Marianne's small group moved as swiftly as they could, which ended up not being very quickly at all. They walked through the heavy darkness, the air moist and chilly with the promise of a cold, maybe even icy rain. When it became clear that neither fairy nor the elf could navigate in the dark it was Bog that started to lead them. 

The group still had to move slowly in the dark with Bog trying to guide them. He could see, but trying to lead three almost blind people behind him was more difficult then he anticipated, especially since his command of the language wasn't good enough to help give directions. At one point, after maybe an hour or longer of trying to navigate in the heavy darkness, Dawn fell, scraping her knee and at one point, because of a misunderstanding, Sunny had run into a tree. Bog stopped walking and turned to face them. 

“Go...” he motioned with his hand trying to indicate they should go back while the word made a puff of steam into the wet night air. Marianne put her hands on her hips glaring up at the tall goblin. “No Bog. You need our help.” 

Bog stared hard at her, clearly trying to use the power of his stare to communicate to her better than his speech. Marianne glared right back. Dawn and Sunny watched the stare off, glancing at each other then back at Marianne and Bog. 

They were all standing under a giant fir tree just as the group started to feel the first drops of rain. Bog snarled continuing to point with one claw, motioning more vigorously at Marianne. “GO!” 

Marianne walked right up to him glaring with all her princessly power. “NO! You need us!” 

Bog snarled, his fangs making him look dangerous. “GO!!” 

Dawn glanced up as the drops of water started to fall heavier. “Ah guys...I think we should find shelter...soon...you can argue some more then.” 

Neither Bog nor Marianne were listening as they continued to glare at one another with Bog snarling and pointing “Go” and Marianne refusing to move. 

Dawn started to shiver as the drops of rain started to fall heavier. Sunny put his arm around her without thinking about the fact that she was a princess and he should have asked permission, but Dawn simple dropped down to her knees and snuggled against him. 

“How long are they going to argue, you think?” Sunny asked quietly. Dawn, her teeth beginning to chatter, hissed. “They arrrree b-both st-t-tubborn....l-l-look at-t them-m.” 

Sunny glanced at Dawn with a worried expression. He turned toward Bog and Marianne. 

“Okay you two—enough!” 

Sunny's shout finally drew their attention. “Dawn is shivering and the rain is getting heavier. We need a place to stop for a while!” 

Bog and Marianne both seemed to realize they were getting wet at that moment. Bog looked up, narrowing his eyes. Marianne watched him as he moved around. It was clear he saw something up in the fir tree. After watching him silently for a moment, Marianne opened her mouth to ask what he was doing when he motioned for her to stepped closer. 

Bog pointed up his other hand gently on her shoulder as he tried to direct her attention. 

Marianne gazed upward, but all she saw was darkness. She strained to see whatever it was that Bog saw, but then after a few seconds, there is was, a place on the tree's trunk that was darker than the rest. 

“A hole?” 

She glanced at Bog. He frowned looking intently at her and she held up her hands, fingers touching to demonstrate. “Hole.” 

Bog smiled and nodded. “Hol.” He walked over taking a leap and immediately dug the claws of his hands and feet into the bark of the tree. He glanced at Marianne, his expression intent as he searched for the word. “Wat.” 

Marianne nodded and repeated. “Wait. Alright, be careful.” 

Bog smiled at her (which made Marianne's heart perform an odd little flip flop), then proceeded to quickly climb the tree. Marianne was impressed with how quickly Bog scaled the tree; within moments he was near the hole. 

Once he was level with the hole, he cautiously looked inside. The inside was warm, dark and occupied. Bog went still but as his eyes adjusted he was relieved to see that the occupants were just a couple of wild squirrels. Bog slowly, carefully entered the den. The squirrels awakened, making a series of panicked sounds, but Bog put his hands up and made an odd tittering sound with his tongue and teeth that quickly had the couple of squirrels calming down. Goblins sometimes used squirrels the way the fairies did, to carry heavy loads, or to help in supporting and carrying injured goblins. Bog was good with squirrels and actually enjoyed their company. 

Once the squirrels settled down, they allowed Bog to step close and run his hands over their heads. Bog smiled. The squirrels made soft, almost purrs as Bog scratched their ears Though it was darker in the hole than outside, Bog's eye were able to adjust to allow him to look over the place. There would be more than enough room for everyone. It would keep them out of the rain and if anyone came looking for them, they would be well hidden. 

* 

Below Marianne started to pace. She had lost sight of Bog once he entered the hole. She worried what he would do, alone, if something terrible lived in that hollow. Dawn, her teeth chattering, whispered to Sunny. “Yooouu th-thinkk h-he's o-okay?” 

Sunny smiled. “I do. Bog looks like he could rip anything apart.” 

Oddly that made Dawn grin and nod. 

Marianne glanced back up the tree and wondered if she could find a way to get up to Bog in case she heard the sounds of fighting. She turned to her sister. “You okay?” 

Dawn nodded leaning into Sunny. “Yah...I'm-m f-f-fine.” 

Marianne was thinking about shedding her coat for her sister to have and seeing if she could climb the tree after Bog when suddenly Bog dropped down beside her, landing in a crouch. Marianne yelped jumping back as Bog slowly stood up to his full height. For a moment Marianne could only imagine what kind of fighter Bog would be, with his claws, teeth, the way he moved...it was extremely...attractive, was all she could think of at the moment to describe him. 

He smiled at Marianne with maybe a hint of impishness. Marianne smacked his shoulder which caused Bog to laugh...a sound that made Marianne's heart triple its beat. He nodded at her, still smiling but then he pointed at Dawn and then to his back. 

“On,” he ordered while slipping off his pack. Dawn frowned, but she was shivering so much that she was having trouble concentrating. Marianne knew exactly what Bog had in mind and quickly came over to her sister. 

“Bog is going to carry you up to the hollow in the tree.” Marianne gave her sister a reassuring smile. 

“Oh, o-okay.” Dawn nodded in understanding and complete trust. Marianne and Sunny led Dawn over to Bog who was crouched and waiting. As soon as they had Dawn comfortably situated on his back, her arms around his neck, Bog started to climb up the wet bark. He didn't move as swiftly as before, taking care with his delicate burden, but he easily carried Marianne's sister up to the hole and vanished. 

* 

Once inside, Bog carefully set Dawn on her feet. He had started a tiny fire in the corner of the hollow that he had blocked off with some nut hulls. The squirrels were curled around each other, only opening their eyes briefly to examine the new visitor. Bog set Dawn down on her feet gently. 

“Are they...safe?” Dawn looked between Bog and the squirrels. Bog studied Dawn's face for a moment before he smiled and nodded. He mimicked her removing her jacket then pointed at the fire. Dawn nodded, moving over to crouch near the welcome little fire. Bog smiled and nodded again before he slipped outside. 

* 

Bog took three more trips to fetch Marianne, Sunny and finally his pack. By the time he was back inside, he was shivering with the cold and the skin around his eyes looked a little grey. Dawn and Sunny were curled up against the squirrels having changed into dry clothing, sleeping peacefully, facing one another, but Marianne was still sitting by the fire. She had changed as well, but she had pulled a blanket out of her pack and still had it around her shoulders. She smiled, a smile that made even her weary eyes sparkle when she saw Bog climb back into the hollow for the last time. Her smile was enough to give him pause and his heart to speed up a fraction. 

Bog covered the sudden spike of emotion, nodding as he slid his pack off and came over to sit by the tiny fire. His steps were slow as he sagged, letting out a breath. 

Marianne scooted closer to him. “Thank you.” 

Bog smiled and nodded, moving a little closer to her. “You go.” 

He glanced with a plea in his blue eyes. Marianne shook her head. 

“Stop being so stubborn Bog. You need us. Besides, once we get you home I want to try to talk with your king,” she said. “Maybe there is a way we can stop the hostilities...maybe there is peace to be had....” Marianne held her hands out to the fire, yawning so hard that tears sprang to her eyes. 

Bog sighed. He was quickly learning that fighting with Marianne was like fighting with a storm. He could growl and protest as much as he liked, but the storm was still going to roll over him. 

He understood some of what she said, something about stopping and peace...kings...Bog smiled. She was feisty, tough, hardheaded. 

And he liked her.


	7. Dreaming

Marianne had the strangest dream. 

Bog stood waiting for her. He smiled—that smile of his...she loved the way his fangs were slightly crooked, the way his eyes lit up, sparkling like stars, the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes...she liked all of him. He held out his clawed hand to her. She reached forward and placed her hand in his much larger one, feeling the rough texture of his skin against hers. He curled his hand around hers tugging her forward gently. She placed her other hand against his chest, feeling the warmth of his scales against her hand. She looked up into his stunning blue eyes. Bog smiled again. 

“You look beautiful tonight.” Bog's voice was clear and she had no difficulty in understanding him and the slight accent made his words all the more enticing. 

Bog brought her hand up to his lips. She could feel the press of warmth against her knuckles when Bog's lips pressed against her skin, his eyes never leaving hers her golden ones, never wavering. Marianne frowned. “You...you learned our language?” 

Bog grinned. It was slightly wicked, yet with a childlike quality about it. The heat in his eyes made goosebumps appear all up and down her spine. 

“Well, I did have a very good teacher.” He kissed her knuckles again wrapping his free arm around her, pressing her body up against him. 

Marianne gasped; even through her flower petal dress she could feel the rough texture of his scales, the way his claw pressed gently into her back for a moment. It was erotic, sending a thrill of heat straight to her groin. Bog continued to grin at her leaning down, his lips were so...inviting. It would not take much for her to stand on the tips of her toes and steal a kiss from him. 

Marianne gulped, coming up on her tiptoes, she seemed to do it with no conscious thought. He dropped her hand, instead wrapping his other arm around her, pulling her body against his tighter...her mouth fell open slightly, her eyes lost in his blue ones. She could feel all of him through the fabric of her dress. He was so close, she could feel how warm he was, smell him...it made parts of her shiver with want. He bent dow toward her mouth, his eyes sliding close. Just as his lips were about to touch hers, Marianne's eyes flew open. 

* 

Marianne awoke with a jerk. She was lying on her side curled toward the dying fire. She could feel Bog's body behind her, pressed against her back, allowing her to feel his breathing against her hair. One of his long arms was wrapped around her waist, holding her possessively against him. His embrace made her feel warm and safe, the claws of his hand twitching slightly in his sleep. 

She blushed. Either she was the one cuddling up to him, or he was cuddling up to her, OR they were cuddling up together...not that she minded...he was warm.That was what she was telling herself, it was simply for body heat and no other reason. 

Though she did notice, that despite his size, Bog's body seemed to fit behind her perfectly...like he was meant to be there. Marianne's cheeks blazed and she curled in on herself. What in the name of the spirits was wrong with her? He was a goblin...a goblin!! A very handsome, sweet, brave, strong, intelligent goblin, granted. But she simply couldn't let her heart run away like this. She was a princess. Bog...well...she assumed Bog was...she smiled. Bog was anything but ordinary. Marianne sighed, she was so mixed up. 

And who knew how he felt? He might be disgusted....maybe his arm around her was just a reflex. She pressed her lips together closing her eyes again trying not to let that thought upset her, which she found that it did. 

For now, laying like this, with his arm around her, felt right and there was no one around to tell her that this was wrong. 

* 

Dawn woke slowly, curled against the squirrel's soft fur, her hands resting under her cheek. When she opened her eyes she realized she was facing Sunny. Not only was she facing him, but he had a hand on her hip. She blushed with a little smile watching him sleep. She had always been aware of how handsome Sunny was...with his warm brown skin, the freckles across his nose and his dancing brown eyes. She always liked the way his hair stuck up and the fact that he could get her singing no matter what her mood was...he always made her smile. She pressed her lips together on a smile as she studied his features. The urge to reach out and kiss him was so powerful that she leaned toward him. 

Sunny chose that moment to open his eyes. 

His eyes widened. “Dawn?” 

That was the same moment he realized where his hand was...Sunny snatched his hand back his eyes becoming bigger, if possible. 

“I'm so sorry Dawn! I mean Princess Dawn!” He started to push himself up, which had the squirrel pair twittering and grumbling, but Dawn reached out taking his hand, pulling Sunny back down. 

“Don't be sorry Sunny.” She smiled reassuringly reaching out to touch his cheek. 

Sunny took a breath, settling down staring at her. The feel of her fingers, so soft and gentle calmed Sunny instantly. Oh spirits, Sunny thought. He found her to be pretty, with her beautiful blonde hair and bright blue eyes. No one was as pretty and sweet as Dawn. And she was touching his cheek! His cheek! He settled back down though his heart was racing a mile a minute. He was sure she had to be able to hear it! 

“Are my sister and Bog still asleep?” she asked quietly. 

Sunny shifted a bit to look over Dawn. He blinked in surprise. He could mostly see only Bog's back, his wings spread out behind him, twitching slightly in his sleep, but he saw a hint of Marianne's wings across Bog's thigh, and one of her legs between Bogs, her foot siting out between his thighs. For a moment Sunny only grinned. He settled back down facing Dawn. 

“Yeah they seem to be sleeping still, why?” 

Dawn grinned. “I...I just wanted to tell you something in private.” 

Sunny's brow knitted in question, but he nodded. “You can tell me anything princess.” 

“Sunny...just Dawn. No one is around but the four of us, just call me Dawn. Please.” She punctuated her words by touching his cheek again, but with the very tips of her fingers. 

Sunny wanted to sigh with happiness, melting into her touch. “What did you want to tell me?” 

Dawn frowned blushing as she looked down for a moment. Why did talking suddenly become so difficult? Talking was something Dawn always did easily, with anyone, but right now, in this hollow, curled up against a couple of wild squirrels, talking seemed difficult. 

Which was why she decided to just blurt out what she was thinking before she over thought it over too much. This was the perfect chance for her to tell him something she had been feeling for a while now. 

“I like you Sunny.” 

Sunny blushed, but murmured, “I like you too.” 

“No, no...I mean...I like you, like you.” Dawn's brow furrowed as she tried to make the elf understand. 

Sunny started at her. Oh gosh, she thought, his brown eyes are beautiful. She felt the blush on her cheeks race to her ears making her feel as if the points were on fire. 

Sunny frowned. He had to still be dreaming The princess Dawn liked him...liked him, liked him?! Him? 

He pinched his upper arm. “Ow!” 

Dawn looked confused. “What are you doing?” 

“I was pinching myself to see if I was still dreaming...I guess I'm not.” Sunny blushed and shrugged. 

Dawn giggled softly scooting a little closer to Sunny. 

“Dawn...I like you, like you too.” Sunny smiled at her, a shy smile. She reached out and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. 

“What should we do?” Dawn whispered. 

“I don't know,” Sunny whispered back. 

They smiled at each other. Now that they were away from the “court” away from all the other fairies and elves, they could be themselves. Without another word, they moved closer until their lips touched. Sunny gently stroked his rough, calloused fingers along her fair cheek while Dawn wrapped her arms around him. The squirrels make soft noises of protest when the two moved, but otherwise the squirrels didn't wake. Dawn made a soft little sound of pleasure when her lips touched Sunny's. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, their tender kiss turning more and more passionate. 

* 

Bog was dreaming of home. He was holding the Princess Marianne's hand and showing her what home meant to him. Not a permanent locale, but a group of people. He was introducing her to everyone, his mother, father, all the goblins. Marianne laughed and leaned against his chest. 

“You are fortunate Bog.” 

He smiled down at her. “I am now.” 

He leaned down to kiss her, running a claw along her jaw, tilting her chin up, when a voice whispered. “She will never love you...you are ugly...ugly even for a goblin...you will always be alone...Bog.” Bog dropped his hand away from Marianne looking around for the voice. “No. No. She likes me.” 

The voice laughed. “No. She feels sorry for you. You are a freak. Always, you are not a goblin, not a fairy...you are a mistake....you know you can never be loved...she could never love you...never...” 

Bog's bottom lip trembled. He looked back to Marianne only to find her standing with Roland, the two of them laughing. 

“Like I could love a monster like you Bog.” Marianne laughed turning to smile up at Roland. “Especially when I have someone as handsome as Roland.” 

Bog stood there. He didn't know what to do. He wanted... 

* 

Bog jerked awake. He started to push himself up, his heart beating hard in his chest, his eyes burning, when in the next moment he realized he had been dreaming. He took a deep shuddering breath and settled back down only to realize in the next moment that he had himself curled around Marianne. 

What in the name of the Great Oak was he doing ? Again? He was surprised the princess hadn't put a blade between his ribs! He slowly eased his arm back and shifted away from her. He rolled around carefully putting his back to her, folding his wings up tight against his body. He didn't want to move too much for fear of waking her, but also because...if he was willing to admit it, touching her was nice. He didn't...she would never...He curled in tightly on himself, screwing his eyes closed. 

He couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering to the fairy princess asleep behind him. She was not just soft, and smelled like a summer day; she was brave, smart, fearless. He would never admit it aloud, but he was glad she had insisted on traveling with him. Maybe with her help Goblins and Fairies stood a real chance of peace. If they could have peace with the Northern Fairy kingdom maybe there would be a stop to the slavery of the South...maybe. He could hope. 

Bog tried to settle down, to let himself drift back to sleep, but the images from his dream returned. Her hand in his...those beautiful, luminous eyes... Bog curled himself into a tighter ball, bringing his long legs up, wrapping his long arms around his knees. The old pains of when he was growing up, knowing he was different...the fact that he was foolish enough to start having feelings for the princess...he pressed his eyes harder closed whispering to himself in goblin. “Stop Bog, you don't need anyone...you are fine alone...it was just a dream.” 

Then he felt the princess shift behind him, rolling over to put her arm around his torso. He frowned. Should he move again? He opened his eyes. He had just convinced himself that he should try inching away from her when he saw the princess Dawn and the elf Sunny...kissing. 

Bog blinked in surprise. Then he smiled. It was sweet. He had thought a few times that he had seen them looking at each other. 

He decided he had to try to turn around in order to give the two young people some privacy, but then he would be right back in the predicament of having Marianne in his arms, though her arm was around him now. He felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either option was undesirable. 

Bog wanted to groan loudly. Why him? 

* 

Deep in the woods, Griselda was struggling to keep her tears at bay as her husband sat with her along with four of his most trusted goblin warriors and three of their best goblin scouts. Everyone looked tense as they sat around the fire. 

Brynmor sighed scratching his chest before he spoke. “I want to send the scouts out first.” 

One of the warriors, Smudge, shook his head. Smudge was small for a warrior, but his beak was deadly sharp and he was excellent with his sword made from the needle of a porcupine. 

“I think we should just invade the camp. It would be the quickest way to get the prince back.” 

Griselda hissed. “It would also be the quickest way to get our son killed, Smudge.” 

Brynomor held his hands up. “I understand your reasoning Smudge. I do. But my wife is correct. We have to handle this delicately. If we march in there ready to kill, we not only risk the life of my son but the life of everyone. We might win a surprise ambush, but the fairies outnumber us and we travel with children.” 

He looked at each goblin sitting with him. “No. I want the scouts to go in first, to see if our boy is even there.” 

One of the scouts, a slim goblin with frog-like features spoke up. “I had a report from one of my men that they spotted Bog. Or at least she thought it was him. But since that first sighting my other scouts have seen nothing.” 

Brynmor nodded. He glanced at Griselda giving her a reassuring smile before addressing the head of the scouts. “I want you, Nightshade, to take your best scouts, follow the camp, find my son.” 

The chief then glanced at Smudge. “We will decide the best course of action once we are sure of Bog's whereabouts.” 

Everyone bowed to Brynmor who then dismissed them. He stood up and walked over to Griselda putting an arm around her thin shoulders. “We'll find him.” 

She leaned against her husband. “I don't know what I will do if anything happens to him Brynmor...” She sniffed, furiously wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“Our boy is smart and resourceful. He will be fine.” Brynmor squeezed her shoulders. 

“You think so?” She turned to look at her husband and he stroked her face tenderly. 

“There is a lot more to Bog than I think any of us knows, and we raised him well. He will find a way home.” Brynmor pulled her in for a deep and passionate kiss. Griselda clung to her husband returning his kiss, then laid her head on his shoulder. He whispered, “We'll get our son back. I swear on the Ancient Oak.” 

* 

Back at the fairy camp, preparations had begun to pull up camp and continue to the Southern Kingdoms. The princesses had been quiet. Their carriage remained undisturbed, no one wanting to wake them. Servants had brought food, carefully placing it inside as quietly as possible, but the camp was busy getting ready to leave so the fact that the princesses were missing went unnoticed for several hours. 

* 

Roland met with Dagda just before the caravan was ready to leave. “Sire. I must leave you for a little while.” 

Dagda frowned. He was sitting on squirrel back, an ancient squirrel whose fur had turned almost white with age. Dagda had had Red since he was a young man and Red was still the only squirrel he would ride, whenever he felt like riding. The two old companions didn't ride out much together now, but on days like this, when Dagda was feeling young and full of energy, the two companions would ride together. 

Dagda turned to Roland. “What must you do, Roland?” 

Roland smiled. “I have some pressing business that I must take care of before the wedding. It is...a gift for Marianne.” 

Dagda smiled. “You have given my daughter so many gifts. She is a very lucky young woman to have such a devoted soon-to-be husband.” The older man chuckled. 

Roland smiled, though it never reached his eyes. “Thank you sire. I shall meet back with the caravan soon. I hope. My brothers and some of my other men will be staying with you to make sure the princesses are kept safe.” 

Dagda smiled. “Be careful son.” 

Roland nodded and rode off to a meeting with Nightly. 

* 

Roland found the fairy waiting for him on the edge of the forest leaning against a tree flipping a dagger from hand to hand. Roland rode up bringing his squirrel to a stop eyeing the darker fairy. 

“Alright Nightly, take me to Sugar Plum.”


	8. There is always a Price

The small group of fairies, led by Nightly, moved through the heavy undergrowth of the forest. Roland shivered and pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders. A light rain had started to fall while Nightly led them deeper into the forest. The rain soon soaked all of them and created a deep chill that Roland was beginning to think he would never be rid of no matter how many blankets he would wrap around himself later. 

And to top it all off, Roland was becoming grumpy. He wasn't accustomed to traveling on foot like this; usually he was riding his squirrel or he would fly, but Nightly had insisted they travel by foot, that the woods where the “witch” lived were too deep into the forest for them to fly safely. Nightly had also stated that the undergrowth would be too dense for the squirrels, plus an armored squirrel being ridden by a fairy prince would draw too much attention by less than savory inhabitants of the Dark Forest. 

They had been walking forever—at least that was what it felt like to Roland. And when they had stopped to camp that night, Nightly had insisted on a small fire and only pack rations for dinner instead of hunting up a real meal. It was horrible! Roland was about ready tell Nightly to take him back, that he didn't need a silly old love potion. Roland was not used to putting a lot of work into anything, and why should he? This little trip was annoying, too long and too much work for a prince. Roland muttered to himself that he should have just had Nightly bring the damn potion or the fey witch back to him instead of trudging through the forest himself. Just as Roland thought about uttering his displeasure and desire to return, Nightly stopped moving and motioned Roland forward. Roland frowned with a narrowing of his eyes. He also didn't like being “summoned” by a lesser fairy, but he climbed up to where Nightly was looking down into the darkness. 

Nightly stood on the rotting remains of a large oak tree, crouched down as he pointed down below. 

“There she is my lord.” 

Roland peered down into darkness. It took a long moment for his eyes to adjust for him to be able to see clearly. Below them was a sort of small grove or “valley.” Here the darkness seemed to absorb the small amount of light that reached through the upper levels of the Dark Forest. That was not to say there wasn't any light, however. Scattered here and there throughout the area and for as far as Roland could see, were glowing mushrooms and other plant life that Roland didn't recognize. The low illumination was discomforting; it made his skin crawl. 

A low fog laid along the ground, obscuring the land below, making the glowing fungus even more surreal. Roland could see what looked like a small dark snake of a stream that caught and reflected back the strange colored glow of the fungus. The river, otherwise, was dark and murky in places where the glow did not reach it, though oddly, Roland couldn't see where the stream began and where it went; it simply twisted and curved into the fog creating a ribbon of strange, slow flowing darkness. 

Running along the stream were thick patches of pussy willows and cattails where tiny lights bobbed and weaved along the dark green of the plants. Roland couldn't see from this distance what those glowing balls of light were, but by the way they moved, jumping and twisting, they seemed to be intelligent and not just swamp gas. But the oddest thing to Roland was that there, in the middle of the small, damp area was the largest ancient willow tree that Roland had ever seen. The weeping branches of the tree were massive, indicating the immense age of the tree and despite the darkness where it grew, its branches were heavy with leaves. The leaves of the willow though were not the usual green, but they had a strange silvery quality in the glow of this little valley. Roland could see that the massive branches of the tree parted to create a sort of grand opening that displayed a thick, heavy door embedded in the truck of the old willow tree. 

Roland wrinkled his nose in displeasure. “She lives in that?” 

Nightly nodded. “She does.” 

Roland frowned as he stared down at the tree and the strange place where it sat. 

“If she was just a story, how did you know about her Nightly? How did you know she lived here?” Roland turned to look at his trusted hunter. 

Nightly shrugged. “It's a long story your lordship, for another time. We should head down there before the rain becomes harder and navigating down there becomes impossible.” Nightly, without waiting for permission, leapt down and started to make his way along the muddy hillside toward the willow. Roland frowned, looking petulant. He didn't really look forward to getting muddy on top of being wet and cold. It didn't really make a good impression when one was going calling on a witch, but maybe witches didn't care. Roland made a face as if he had swallowed something disgusting. Maybe she was so ugly and horrible that even though he was covered in mud and wet she would think Roland was the most noble, most handsome fairy (all of which was true no matter how dirty he was, he thought with a smirk to himself.) Roland took a breath. It didn't matter how awful this witch was, he had come this far... 

* 

Bog lay very still and tried not to breathe too heavily or move too much. He had tried to wiggle himself free of the princess's embrace, but when he shifted his position just a little, the tiny thing had only tightened her grip. For a fairy and a princess she was surprisingly strong. And then, to make matters worse, one of her beautiful purple wings had lifted to wrap itself around them both AND she had shifted closer to him pressing her nose against his chest, a contented little smile on her lips. Now Bog was trapped with the princess against his chest and one soft velvety wing hiding them from view. It would look very bad to the smaller princess and her elf companion. He swallowed and glanced down at her. She was pretty, the prettiest creature Bog had ever seen, he admitted to himself. His heart did a strange flip flop in his chest when he looked down at her smiling, her little nose pressed against his chest. 

But he needed to get away from her before she woke up and realized what she was doing. He didn't want her to scream or hit him...he didn't want her to suddenly be angry with him...even though none of this was his fault. Still... 

Bog chewed at his bottom lip as he tried to discern how to get himself out of his predicament when he heard Marianne whisper softly, her breath caressing the scales of his chest: 

“I know you're awake.” 

Bog frowned and looked down to find a pair of lovely brown eyes looking up at him. At that moment, he was thankful that he couldn't speak their language very well because he would not have been able to find the words to speak anyway. 

She smiled, which made everything both better and worse. No goblin or fairy that he had ever seen had a smile like that. Her smile reminded him of when he was little. He would wake before everyone and slip away to fly as high as his tiny wings would carry him, up through the thick branches and tangled vines of the dark forest until he would finally break free of the canopy, exhausted. The effort was always worth it when he arrived at the top, for then he could see the sunrise. The beams of light would slowly open like a flower's petals, a soft pale orange glow, gradually brightening as its rays swept over everything, waking the world. He would rest on an uppermost branch to watch the sun as long as he dared. It was dangerous for him to be above the treetops alone, a tiny, thin, winged creature, easily snatched from the air by a passing bird or owl, but it had always been worth the risk, just like now... 

When Bog had stayed as long as he could, he would fly back to the forest floor, his smile wide...watching the sunrise was his special secret when he was little...a special treasure he held close to his heart. 

THAT was what Marianne's smile was like...she brought back all those feelings Bog had growing up and watching the sunrise...and more. 

The other feelings Bog wasn't sure of. They seemed intense and muddled, mixed-up; he couldn't seem to sort through them. If his mother was here he would have spoken to her. She always steered him right where his feelings were concerned...but he was on his own here, lost and confused, his heart telling him that she was like the sun...a risk worth taking...but his mind warned him that he belonged nowhere and that no one would accept him—it didn't matter what he felt. 

Marianne snuggled in close against his chest and murmured, “You're so warm.” 

Bog's cheeks turned bright red. He hadn't been sure what she had said, but the gesture was clear enough. Bog closed his eyes for a moment before he hesitantly reached out and placed his large hand against the back of her head, cradling her just a little. 

She shivered happily, feeling the gentle pressure of his hand against her head, the gentle caress of his claws when his fingers flexed. Marianne smiled. She had never felt this safe before since becoming an adult...there was always so much pressure to be the princess, the heir, to marry, to secure the kingdom...no one asking her if she was happy, what she wanted...or just liking her for her. Marianne sighed in contentment. Bog made no demands on her. Yes, he needed her to help—hopefully—to bring some sort of peace between the goblins and fairies, but...just him...just Bog...he made her feel safe and special. She couldn't understand why she felt this way or what exactly it was about him, but she just knew Bog would never judge her by her status, but only by who she was. Or maybe these were just silly thoughts...Marianne didn't know, but she did know that sleeping next to him, smelling his scent and knowing he was there, made her happy. She snuggled back in against him, pressing her nose to his chest once more and closed her eyes. 

Almost immediately her breathing settled back into the slow soothing sounds of sleep. 

Bog blinked as he gazed down at Marianne to realize that the princess had fallen back asleep. He chuckled softly, stroking the tips of his claws through her short hair. It was cute the way she had pulled herself closer to him and just fallen back asleep feeling completely comfortable with him. It made Bog feel special, that she felt safe...that she trusted him enough to fall asleep and hold her. His cheeks were still bright red, but Bog smiled. No matter what happened, this would be another nice memory to add to his collection in those days when he was sad and lonely. 

* 

Bog wasn't sure what time it was when he woke up again, though he clearly had fallen back asleep in Marianne's embrace. He had felt safe too, holding her, the soft sweetness of her even breathing brushing against his hide, the velvet feel of her wing against his side; all of it felt nice. He hadn't felt safe for a while now...and he had felt...something else he could not put into words. Growing up, he had been loved and his parents had done everything in their power to make him feel loved and accepted, but he always felt out of place. For a brief moment, with the fairy princess holding him...Bog had felt like he belonged somewhere...wherever she was...he must be dreaming... 

Now, as his mind became fully awake, Bog frowned for a moment in confusion. He couldn't remember for a panicked moment where he was, how he had arrived here, but before he could react violently, lashing out in his confusion, everything came rushing back to him in a flood of memory. His capture, the pain, the humiliation, the escape and Marianne's arms. And now he remembered he was in a hollow of a tree, with a couple of wild squirrels, and next to him lay the Princess of the fairies. The princess. 

Bog squeezed his eyes shut, keeping them closed as the panic slowly ebbed away. He felt a sting of tears at the corners of his eyes. He felt so lost, not just because he had been taken and his family was probably putting themselves in danger looking for him, but because of the confusion he was feeling. Marianne was not what he expected. And now here he was in the middle of the Dark Forest with two fairy princesses and an elf, all of them counting on him—Bog. Not a goblin, not a fairy, but rather a creature that belonged nowhere at all. Before his thoughts could carry him away, Bog eased himself away from Marianne and stood up as much as he could in the small space. 

Marianne woke, rubbing her eyes. “Bog?” 

He turned to look down at her. She had rolled over onto her back; her hair was mussed, her cheeks and lips rosy with sleep. Her eyelids opened to reveal the beautiful brown that was her eyes. He smiled unable to keep the blush that blossomed across his sharp cheeks. 

He murmured. “Morning.” 

She sat up and gave him a grin. “Good morning to you too.” 

Bog blushed deeply, ducked his head and turned away from her. 

Dawn, curled in Sunny's arms grinned. “Morning you two. The squirrels left a while ago.” 

Marianne twisted her head as if she were trying to pop her neck and rolled her shoulders, her wings shuddering slightly. 

“How long have you two been up?” she asked. Her eyebrows rose slightly at the way that Dawn and Sunny were holding each other, though she didn't say anything aloud. 

Dawn giggled with a simple answer, “Not long.” 

Bog pressed his lips together and turned away looking around. 

The squirrel's from the night before were gone, having left the hollow space cooler. The fire had burned down providing little heat and less light. The light that was filtering into the opening of the tree was watery and grey. Bog walked over, keeping his wings close to his body and put his clawed hand up on the top of the opening and leaned forward to look out. Marianne stood up and walked over to him, glancing up at him. She swallowed as she gazed at his sharp profile. He really did have a nobility about him; his features were sharp, but...she quickly looked away to gaze out into the white around them. 

The air was cool and a heavy fog made everything seem quiet, as if covered by a blanket. Bog could hear the occasional sounds of something moving out in the dense fog, but he couldn't see far. 

Bog frowned. The fog would make traveling slower and much more dangerous. He chewed his bottom lip in concern. By himself he could move faster. He might even chance flying if he were alone, but with the other three, it was going to be slow going. He took a deep breath as he glanced down at Marianne who stood beside him. 

She felt his eyes on her and looked up. “It'll be dangerous won't it?” 

Bog didn't understand every word, but by her tone and the look in her eyes he was sure of her meaning “Carlfool,” he said slowly. 

She studied his face then nodded. “Careful.” 

He nodded again, then took a deep breath moving back inside. The best thing they could do would be to eat and start moving. 

* 

Roland felt himself shudder as their small group edged its way toward the willow. He had his sword out, holding the blade close to his side so that no one could see that he was trembling. The sounds of the forest seemed to disappear as their small group crept closer to the imposing tree. Roland could feel a trail of sweat run down his back and his tunic was sticking to his chest. He pressed his lips together in irritation and no small amount of anxiety. His fingers around the hilt of his sword felt slippery and the urge to run was almost more than he thought he could control. And then a sweet high-pitched voice, coming from seemingly nowhere and everywhere said: 

“Stop creeping outside my door and come in...geez.” 

Roland jumped at the sound of the voice and dropped his sword. The voice made everyone else in their tiny group jump too. Nightly and the rest turned to look at him. 

Roland swallowed. “Sorry.” 

Everyone's eyes snapped to the door in the willow as it slowly opened, a soft glowing blue light poured out and a shadowy figure approached. Roland's eyes were huge, his knees were actually trembling when the light behind the figure eased showing a beautiful woman with long, flowing blue hair, crystal blue eyes and pale skin dressed in a long flowing dress of twilight, standing there grinning at them. 

“Hey! Visitors!! Come on in boys, I got some tea on and some cookies!” 

* 

The next few minutes were a blur to Roland. Their group was not just ushered in, but he was fairly certain the witch had done something—to compel them, maybe? All he knew was that now he was sitting around a table with the “witch” fluttering around like a young woman with suitors. 

“So do you want honey or milkweed milk or both with your tea?” 

She stood at the table, her eyes, hair still...glowing...as far as Roland could see, holding an acorn made teapot with the smell of chamomile wafting from it. 

The table was set with plates and cups, everything wooden or made from...well, Roland only knew what, but none of it looked clean enough for him to touch. Finally the strange woman stopped flittering around and stood at the head of the table with her hands behind her back. 

“So, what can I do for you boys?” 

Roland took a deep breath and put on his best smile. He glanced at Nightly, frowning when he saw that his fairy hunter was looking down at his hands like he didn't want to be noticed. Roland rolled his lips then refocused his smile on the glowing blue witch. 

“I have come seeking your love potion, witch.” 

The witch tittered. “Oh look at you! Aren't you a handsome one!” 

She giggled. “And you need my love potion? Really? Wouldn't think you would have a problem getting the fey ladies in your bed...but what do I know? Maybe ugly is in this year at the fairy courts.” 

She shrugged. 

Roland frowned. “I don't have problems getting women into my bed. I want a particular one to love me!” 

The witch grinned. Her smile made Roland lurch back a bit. It was a little disconcerting, he silently acknowledged, to say the least. The witch giggled again and moved around the table until she stood behind Roland's chair and laid her hands on the back of it. She leaned down next to his ear, which gave Roland the running bumps down his spine when she spoke. 

“Oooh, I see.” Her voice, which up to this point had been high, overly cheerful and annoying, dropped several pitches as she whispered to him. 

“She figured out what you're really like, eh?” 

Roland frowned. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel right now. He was equal parts annoyed, angry and...he swallowed. 

“She...she doesn't love me, but I need her for the things I want...I need her in love with me.” 

The witch Plum, smiled happily then. “You need the princess to love you so that you can get your great big kingdom, eh?” 

She walked around, dragging the tip of her fingers over his shoulders as she did so. 

“All right. I will make you my love potion under one condition.” She smiled pleasantly hopping onto the table to sit by Roland. 

“That if the potion doesn't work, you come here and work for me for a year...to do whatever I want.” 

Roland scoffed. “Why would I do that if it doesn't work?” 

Plum smiled sweetly. “Because I'm a fey witch and I say so...there is always a price whether magic works or not, sweetie. Now, if it does work and you get the girl and your kingdom, I want your first born.” 

Roland pouted. “But...” 

Plum reached up and laid her finger against his lips. “No, no, no...no arguing dear fairy prince. You're asking me to brew you some very, very powerful magic. You don't think mere gold will pay for that, do you?” 

Roland frowned against her finger. Maybe he would get lucky and their first born would be a girl. 

“Fine. You have a deal.” 

Plum jumped down from the table with a girlish giggle. “Wonderful!! Now...let's get started.”


	9. Fog and Witches

It had been several hours since they had left the squirrel home. Their small group had been traveling slowly, the elements working against them. The ground was squishy, the mud (which was everywhere Marianne thought with a sour face) seemed to want to suck them down into it as they made their way through the dense fog and thick vegetation. And the quiet—never had Marianne “heard” such quiet. It had been eerily silent for the last couple of hours. 

Bog had noticed the lack of sound, though he wasn't sure if the fairies and elf would notice, not living in the woods like he and the other goblins did...but he had neither heard nor seen an animal or insect in hours. That was more than strange, he decided. But he had also found no signs of a large predator in the woods either. It was as if the four travelers were utterly alone in the forest. The place where they were now seemed deserted of all life but the plants. Bog's wings lay flat against his back, the tension in his shoulders along with the chill made every muscle ache. He was worried, but he didn't say anything despite feeling unnerved. 

Marianne stayed close to Bog, keeping pace with his long strides, not just for protection, but she liked being next to him, watching him. Not only did she feel safe with him, but being beside him felt “right” in many ways. The only thing that would make their hike even better would be to hold his hand. She smiled quietly to herself at how drastically her feelings had changed for him, but that was all due to Bog. Bog was...well, wonderful, she thought to herself. He was noble, intelligent, brave and oh so sweet despite everything that had happened to him. Then there were the physical parts of him. The way he moved was graceful despite how long his limbs were—or maybe it was because they were so long she wondered. She loved how tall he was as well as the sharpness of his features...the shape of his lips, the curve of his claws, the blue of his eyes. Marianne blushed glancing down at her muddy boots as she realized she was acting like Dawn, swooning over a guy she had a crush on. As she watched him move she pressed her lips together on a smile. For some reason she had had it in her mind that he would be awkward in his movements, but she supposed that was from his being their prisoner, trying to keep himself safe by trying to reduce his size, to make himself small, slumping, keeping his steps small...it made Marianne's heart go cold. How could anyone imprison or hold in slavery another living creature she thought. The whole thing made her sick brought to mind Roland. She had never been really violent before, but now...she could see herself running a blade through Roland's chest. Marianne shuddered at the darkness of her own thoughts; it frightened her a little that she could think such a way. With a soft sigh Marianne returned her attention to Bog. 

She could see he was on full alert. There was a tension in his shoulders, the occasional rattle of his shoulder plates, the dry hiss of his wings, the way his head moved constantly, and she could see his claws were held ready to attack; that told her he was not simply uncomfortable, but expecting trouble. Someone else might not have noticed, but Marianne was finding that she noticed a great deal about Bog. She blushed at herself looking away from him, her eyes trying desperately to pierce the fog around them. Marianne pressed her lips together and wrapped her arms around herself. The chill was settling in, as if it were working its way deep into her bones. 

After an hour of them walking painstakingly slow, careful and mindful of each and every step through the fog and mud, Marianne ventured quietly. “Do you know where we're going?” 

Bog, who had climbed onto a thick tree root that resembled a hard, knotted hill, looked down at her. Marianne gazed up at him from where she stood right next to the root. He gazed down at her along the sharp slope of his nose, his blue eyes seeming to glow in the grey watery light. His shapely lips were pressed into a thin frown and then he nodded at her, but she could see, even from her position below him, the doubt in his eyes. Marianne glanced back at her sister and Sunny. She could see that they were exhausted, the two of them sitting on a low lying root, Sunny's arms around her sister. Dawn was leaning in close to him, her head against his, her body pressed up close to him. Sunny and Dawn not only kept falling behind, but they were both shivering and looked pale around their eyes. Marianne was worried for them. 

“We should stop soon,” Marianne said softly. 

Bog glanced down at her again, then turned to look behind them examining the little princess and her...mate? Bog wasn't sure what the fairy term was for those who were closer than friends, though not lovers yet. He frowned watching them a moment longer. They were both frail, but possessed firm mental fortitude he surmised. He admired their determination and he felt honored that they would risk themselves to help him. He would owe them a life debt...assuming any of them made it to the goblin caravan. 

He glanced back down at Marianne and nodded simply. He could see the weariness in their movements and he didn't want them to become sick. He didn't need to stop; he could probably go on for several more hours before he would need to rest, but these fey were his companions and as a prince, it was his duty to protect them, care for them, make sure they had everything they needed. Additionally, if they did take a quick rest it would allow him to do some much needed scouting ahead without them. It would be faster and he could get an idea of exactly where they were since the fog made everything strange, mysterious and dangerous. Bog narrowed his eyes looking around trying to peer into the depths of the fog, but the density of the fog obscured every detail of the forest beyond a dozen paces—it was unsettling. Bog hated to admit it, but his scales crawled with unease. 

Bog glanced down at Marianne and hissed. “Sopt oon.” 

“Stop soon? Good. I'm tired too.” She smiled at him. Bog frowned turning away quickly feeling the blush race immediately to his cheeks when she smiled at him. Her smile seemed to wash over him, making his ears and cheeks burn, his wings wanted to shiver and... 

Bog frowned to himself and started to walk again, hopping down from the root to look for a good and safe place for them to rest. He couldn't be completely sure, but he thought that perhaps the grove of the Brollachan, the shapeless one was nearby. The area reminded him of the stories. The very idea of that made his scales crawl. The only thing telling him that they might be close (according to the stories) was the smell of decay, the scent of cold shadows and absence souls of the forest. Here, the trees, smaller plants, the soil and the air even felt lifeless to him. Bog shuddered. He remembered his mam telling him stories about the Brollachan, about how it would linger around lonely places on the outskirts of where the more civilized fairies, fey and goblins lived. It was shapeless and that was why it coveted the shape of others. The creature supposedly took the shape of another, though it would burn through them, having to change its shape often or else it would slither back into its shapelessness. He had never seen one, never knew anyone who had seen one, but there were stories that one lived in the deep parts of the Dark Forest, that there was a grove where it dwelt waiting for victims. Bog shook himself, his wings rattling. The Brollachan was just a story he told himself...yes, a story and nothing more, told to keep little goblins from wandering too far from the camp or playing in stagnant water or deserted burrows. No one had ever reported seeing one; they were old, old stories. 

Bog pushed ahead. He was not going to let stories keep him from finding his family. The thought of his mother and father rose up in his mind causing the back of his throat to burn and his eyes to sting for a moment. For a brief moment he wondered if they thought he was dead? Part of him hoped they did because that meant they would move themselves out of harm's way, that the southern fairies wouldn't find them, but the other half of him hoped they were still waiting for him. He wanted to feel his mother's arms around him, his fathers hugs that nearly tore Bog off his feet. The way they never looked at him as if something was wrong with him; to them, he was simply their son. Bog pressed his lips tighter together on his pain. He wiped viciously at his eyes. He would not be weak and cry...not when these fairies and the elf were depending on him. Not when Princess Marianne was depending on him. Bog licked his lips giving his eyes one final wipe to dash away any tears that had managed to escape and stomped away to look for shelter for those who were counting on him. 

* 

Plum had moved all of Roland's men into what she called her “spare room.” Roland only caught a glimpse of the room before she shut the door on his men. The tiny room looked like a damn parlor in his grandmother's castle, with pastel flower chairs, and more pastel flowers, strange looking lights that for the brief second that Roland caught sight of the inside of the room. The lights looked like trapped sprites in jars...and other more feminine things everywhere. Disgusting, he thought with a curled lip. He was sure a wafting of perfume came out of the room as soon as she opened the door. Roland thought as the fairy witch closed the door on his men that being trapped in that room would be worse than trudging through mud...at least mud was manly... 

“Now, Roland honey, since this love potion is for you and you alone to use, you have to help me make it.” Plum grinned showing off perfect, straight, gleaming white teeth, but what made Roland want to take a step back was the hint of fangs, the delicately sharp canines he thought he saw before she turned away and grabbed his hand, nearly floating in her hurry as she dragged him to another room. 

She burst through the door, letting go of his hand and nearly flinging him into an old wooden chair, surprising him with a level of strength that her slim arms ought not to have had. The room had the scent of old candle wax, stale incense and magic...old, old magic—old enough that it made Roland's nose itch. Roland frowned, rubbing the tip of his nose with his finger, his green eyes wandering the room. There were the typical things one would expect in a witch's home he supposed. Hanging herbs and dried flowers, of course, but as his gaze wandered the area, he saw other things...animal bones, feathers, body parts, strange glass jars that held “things” suspended in clear fluids, some of them even seemed to move, stones of a variety of colors and textures along with glowing mushrooms and swaying lichen on the walls. There were strange tapestries hung haphazardly around the room with symbols carved in places—on walls, floor, and ceiling—and of course, the large iron caldron in the middle, dominating the center space. How could I forget that? Roland thought to himself, a freakin' cauldron! He shivered despite himself. Roland did not like anything that was outside his “normal” and “not normal” included goblins and witches. 

“Now!” Plum said excitedly clapping her hands together, the sharp sound causing Roland to jump. “Pay close attention honey because you are going to want to make sure you get all the correct ingredients.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. 

Roland looked disgusted, placing a hand to his chest in shock. “What? Me? Go get...things? I don't do servant work.” 

Plum, who had wandered behind her cauldron to a shelf of books, turned around to glare at him over her shoulder, her tone becoming stern, her long hair seemed to suddenly take on a life of its own, moving and twisting like angry snakes. “Look here handsome—you want this spell, you have to help do the work and that means getting what I need.” 

Roland curled his lip. “Don' you already have it? I mean, what kind of witch are you?” 

The words had barely left his lips when the witch became...well Roland wasn't sure what she became, because suddenly she was all glowing, sparkling blue. Her entire body was comprised of something strange yet beautiful, her legs and dress vanished, her hair lost its defining features, and she seemed to become more spirit than witch. And then, before Roland could fully appreciate the change, she had closed the distance between them and grabbed him around the throat, slamming Roland up against the wall holding him up so that only the toes of his boots scraped along the floor. 

“Do not trifle with me boy. I'm doing you a service and you will obey the rules. Rule one: you gather the things I need. Got it?” she hissed revealing fanged teeth once more. Roland's eyes had become as large as teacup saucers, the whites dominating the green. He wrapped his hands around her thin wrist in a panic, but even though she felt as fragile as a flower, he could tell she could and would snap his neck with little effort on her part. 

“Yes, yes of course—forgive me,” Roland whined. 

Plum smiled, dropped him, and returned to her original form. “Okie dokie! Okay, let's see...” She turned away, sweeping across the room while humming softly. Roland decided that her voice sounded scary now rather than nice. 

Roland rubbed his throat staring after her, wondering if maybe this wasn't a good idea at all. 

“Let's see, I need red wine, the red of blood. Your blood preferably—find some red wine and mix your blood into it.” 

Roland made a disgusted face, but said nothing as she continued. “I will need...” she held up a hand and ticked off with her fingers, “vanilla, basil leaves and fresh leaves from a blood red rose...stained again with blood AND the thorns of that same rose, make sure you prick your finger with the thorns...Mm...meat of a strawberry and an apple, candles that are the color of blood...if you haven't figured it out, blood is a theme here sweetie. Oh, and a moonstone touched by the full moon. This time for the candles you need a drop of the blood from the one you want to affect...so you are going to need some fairy princess blood, oh and primroses, silly me...don't forget the primroses, they're the most important part!” 

Roland stared at her in horror. There was no way he was going to be able to remember all those items! 

Plum, who had had her back to him the whole time, turned around and smiled. “Don't worry sweetie, Nightly will be able to help you with remembering the ingredients. Nightly and I go way back.” 

She smiled again. Her pointed canines became dominant in that smile and the look in her eye for a moment became feral. She giggled turning back around. “Now, I have a special sack around here for you somewhere...” She looked around in confusion “...Ah here it is!” 

She suddenly dropped down, disappearing behind the caldron before she stood up again, holding up what looked to be one of the nastiest, smelliest looking brown leather sacks that Roland had ever seen. She hurried over to him and shoved the sack at him. This close, the sack definitely smelled, like manure and body order. 

Roland dry-heaved, holding the bag out from himself with one hand. “I can't take that!” 

Plum, who had started to walk away from him turned to look at him. “You will take that,” she said calmly, evenly. “That is the only thing that can carry the ingredients. If you put them in anything else, you will not get a love potion when you're done honey.” Her narrowed her eyes slightly. “Do you hear me?” 

Roland gulped, dry-heaved again and nodded. “Sure, sure okay.” 

Plum nodded in satisfaction looking around the room for a moment before she turned. “All right handsome, you have a week to bring me everything. So good luck.” 

She turned and smiled. 

Roland looked confused. “That's it?” 

Plum shrugged. “You don't get the ingredients, you won't get your potion. So go—out.” She made a shooing motion. Roland frowned. He didn't like being “shooed” either, but he turned and hurried out of the room. He heard the witch call after him. 

“Oh, don't forget to take your men with you!” 

Roland glanced over his shoulder, but chose to say nothing. He hurried to the room where Plum had left his men and threw open the door. “Come, we're leaving.” 

The men inside looked relieved, especially Nightly. But when Nightly saw the sack in Roland's hand, he frowned. “Oh, that love potion,” he muttered. 

Roland gave his hunter a sharp look. “What do you mean, 'that love potion?'” 

Nightly motioned. “Come on—we need to leave.” 

Roland decided not to pursue the line of questioning yet, and simply turned around and fled with his men following quickly behind him. 

* 

Nightly refused to say anything until they were out of the witch's home. Nightly also insisted on waiting to speak until they were well away from the witch's home; but after only a few minutes of walking, Roland glanced behind him to see that the home was gone. Roland had glanced over his shoulder, angry that his hunter was refusing to speak, angry that after only a few seconds it was discovered that no other fairy but him could carry the stinky bag (each time he tried to pass the sack off the person who would take it couldn't seem to hold onto it! The sack would simply fall to the ground as if their fingers ghosted through the foul fabric) and he was angry that this potion was going to be so much work!! Roland liked instant results. 

But when Roland had glanced over his shoulder to throw a hateful glare at the witch's home, it was gone. 

Roland stopped dead in his tacks and hissed. “Where is it?” 

Nightly frowned turning around too. The space where the home had been now looked as if nothing at all had ever been there. 

Nightly murmured. “We should keep going.” 

Roland stared for a couple of more heartbeats before he nodded, looking unnerved. “Yes, yes you're right.” 

* 

They traveled for another half hour before Bog found what he thought would make a suitable shelter for them to rest and if necessary for them to go ahead and camp. He didn't like stopping this early; they had hours of daylight to use, but the fog did make traveling dangerous and these fairies and the elf just were not accustomed to traveling like he was because that was what the life of a goblin was, constant travel. 

Bog had taken the chance and took to the air, hovering above a tangle of vines that was currently in their path, until he spotted the hollow log. Bog grinned at their fortune—it was perfect. 

Marianne was standing below watching Bog when he quickly motioned to her. Marianne followed the length of his long arm to see the hints of the log among the tangle of vines ahead of them. It was old, the wood had that almost “stone” look to it of having weathered the ages. 

Bog dropped down softly beside her and motioned at Marianne. “Sta.” 

Marianne stared at him. “Sta,” he said more aggressively motioning with his hand. 

“Stay? I'm not staying, I'll go with you to check it out.” She put her hands on her hips stubbornly. Bog stared at her then shocked her when he smiled. It was a gorgeous fanged smiled that lit his eyes. He pointed behind them at Dawn and Sunny. “Wat tim.” 

She looked at her sister and Sunny then back at Bog. “Watch them?” 

Bog nodded. He stood up straight and flexed one of his arms touching the spot where a muscle would be then pointed at her. “You r stroung.” 

Marianne blushed. He was asking her to stay and watch the others because she was strong. She was fairly sure he was “playing” her a little, but she didn't care. No one had ever called her strong. She grinned with pleasure. “Okay Bog,” she agreed. “But you be careful.” 

Marianne reached out and touched his arm gently. Her touch burned, sending strange warm tendrils of feeling through his entire body. 

He grinned and winked at her before he crouched down, moving slowly. Then, while Marianne watched him, the natural color of his body had him vanishing into the fog and undergrowth. She blinked in surprise, but quickly hurried back to watch over her sister and Sunny. 

* 

Bog was only gone a few minutes before he returned and motioned them all to follow them. 

* 

Sometime later, Bog had a fire started. The hollow log wasn't particularly large; it was rather small, but more than big enough for the four fey creatures to stay in it comfortably with a fire. The back end of the log was flushed up against another tree so that one end was blocked off, meaning there was only one way inside the log, unless it was a creature several times larger who decided to move the hollow log...but for now it seemed like a safe enough place to stop. 

The fire that Bog had started wasn't large either, but it was enough to warm their bodies in the confines of the hollow log. After Bog had the fire going strongly he had indicated he was going to head out and look for food. Marianne had asked to accompany him. Bog had started to refuse, pointing out that she should stay and protect Sunny and Dawn. 

Marianne shook head. “Bog, it will go faster with two of us. Besides, you chose this spot because it's safe, right?” 

Bog had frowned, but reluctantly nodded. That had been over an hour ago when two of them had left. 

* 

Dawn was holding her hands out to the dancing flames, the heat seeping into her chilled body slowly. Dawn rarely hated anything, but she was beginning to think that traveling on foot in a chilled fog would be number one on her very short list of things she hated. Her whole body ached and her feet felt as if they were on fire. She had never gone this long without flying in her entire life. The only good thing about this whole little trip was that Bog and Marianne seemed to getting closer...an idea which she found that she liked a great deal. (She was finding herself liking Bog more and more...he was more a prince charming, sweet, thoughtful, courageous...more than Roland, certainly.) And Sunny...being close to Sunny, realizing the true depth of her feelings, that alone made this whole trip worthwhile. She would hold this trip in her heart always, no matter what happened—she had Sunny. As if reading her mind, Sunny wrapped an arm around her middle tugging her close. Dawn snuggled against him closing her eyes. 

“I wonder when they'll be back?” she murmured quietly. She knew she didn't have to whisper. It just felt like it was something she should do...as if something was out in the fog waiting for them, listening to them. She shuddered and Sunny pulled her closer, shifting his position to put his other arm around her. 

“I'm sure they're fine. I mean, we didn't encounter anything on the way here...” Sunny frowned. Now that he thought about it, it had been strangely quiet in the forest. He was pretty sure that wasn't normal. They should have seen something. A bug, a worm...something. He shook himself. He was just spooking himself. So instead of dwelling on that, Sunny hugged Dawn. She smiled and wrapped her wings around the both of them. The fire danced across the surface of her wings, the light filtering through to create a kaleidoscope of colors against their skin. Sunny looked up into her light blue eyes...Dawn smiled softly. She looked pale and tired, but her smile was still like the sun came out, was shining just for him. Sunny reached up and caressed her cheek, drawing her down to him. Dawn melted against him, her lips meeting his, the two of them opening their mouths to allow their tongues to meet in a passionate kiss. 

They kissed deeply, warmth rolling through their bodies. Slowly they both fell backwards...there were many ways to pass the time...kissing was just one of them. 

* 

After what had seemed like hours of slogging through thickly tangled vines and brambles, Marianne and Bog found a bush of ripe cloudberries. Together they made a carrying bag from a large leaf and were in the process of filling it full of the tart berries. 

Marianne glanced at Bog. He was picking the ripe berries at the top of the bush, his height and claws making it easy work for him. Marianne was doing all right, but she had to use both hands and yank a little harder to pull the berries free. 

“Bog, can I ask you a question?” Marianne asked a little breathlessly as she stumbled when her latest berry came free. 

Bog looked down at her with a quizzical expression. Marianne smiled up at him before she continued. “Do you think...do you think we could be friends after this? I mean once we get you home and hopefully we can mend the breach between out people and all that big...stuff...” She looked flustered as she spoke. “But I...I would like us to remain friends...or be friends...or...” Marianne became flushed even more. She wanted to tell Bog she liked him and wanted them to be friends, real friends that could talk and...Oh hell she wanted more than friendship, she thought to herself, she wanted so much more, but she wasn't even sure if it were possible to have “more.” She more than liked him. She wanted him to hold her again like last night. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, on her skin...Marianne shook herself, a ripple running up her spine as she struggled to put her thoughts back in order ….the idea that after they returned Bog to the goblins, that, even if everything worked out the way she hoped, that they might lose contact, that they might...Marianne pressed her lips down as if trying to hold the thoughts and the words inside. She didn't want to lose Bog. That was it. She wanted to explore these new feelings and she didn't want to let him go. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and press her lips to his and see what happened! Just the mere thought of not seeing him again...she found herself upset by the idea. She wanted to tell him that she wanted to be his friend...a real friend...or maybe she wanted something else entirely... Bog stopped moving, watching while Marianne seemed to struggle with something. 

Marianne, who had looked away to hide the blush that had spread across her cheeks when she couldn't find the phrasing for her question, the blush that bloomed when she realized that she wanted more from him than just friendship even if she wasn't particularly clear what that “more” was...turned to look up at him when she noticed he had stopped moving. 

For a moment Bog looked lost in thought, then he smiled glazing down at her. He pointed at his chest, his words hesitant as he formed them slowly. “I wood lik thant.” 

“You would like that? Really?” Marianne beamed at him. Bog blushed and nodded. He looked flushed, but he was smiling and quickly turned away to reach for another berry. Marianne grinned pressing her teeth into her bottom lip as she smiled. The grin of his lips made her cheeks burn. There was something so...delightful about his smile she thought to herself. But what she was really thinking about was the fact that he wanted to be friends and if he wanted that, then maybe...Marianne pushed her other thoughts aside to focus on picking berries. There will be time to think about the other stuff later, she told herself. 

Marianne reached into the bush for another berry, not noticing that the darkness in the depths of the bush shifted and had grown darker. Marianne tugged another berry free, tossing it onto the leaf and switched her position around to the opposite side of the bush. She had just reached in to grab another berry when something moved. Marianne frowned drawing her hands back swiftly, staring hard into the darkness. After a couple of seconds she shook herself thinking it was simply a trick of the dull light and that she was tired. But when she reached in for another berry, something reached back. 

* 

Bog wiped his hands together, wiping way some of the dirt from the berry bush as well as a bit of the berry juice on the tips of his claws. He moved around the bush looking for Marianne. He was smiling because, despite everything, at this moment, he was happy. She wanted to be friends!! It was silly, he knew, but her asking made him feel...special. Of course, a deeper connection as something more than friends would be nice, but he knew that was impossible. But he would take friendship! 

Bog halted when he realized he had walked around the entire bush and Marianne was nowhere to be seen. Bog frowned looking around. He saw nothing but the forest and the cold grey fog. 

“Mareann?” 

He said her name softly at first then panic started to seep in settling like a cold hand over his heart. “Mareann!!” 

Bog's wings snapped out and with a powerful leap, he took to the air. Bog yelled into the fog. 

“MAREANN!”


	10. The Brollachan

Marianne came to, coughed and spat out something black that tasted like filth on her tongue. She rolled onto her side and coughed until her lungs burned and her eyes watered. For a moment she was thinking that she was dying, the burning pain in her lungs and stomach unbearable. She gasped for breath by the time she finally had vomited up everything in her stomach. She gasped and curled tightly into a fetal ball, brought her knees up to her chest and her wings around her body, wishing she could fade away. She cried, wishing Bog was there...she didn't even question why she thought of Bog, why she wanted him; only that she knew he would comfort her. She held her hands balled into fists against her chest, her eyes squeezed closed and her breath coming in small gasps. 

After a few minutes she was able to breathe normally again, taking slow breaths as the pain slowly faded. She pushed herself up slowly. Her wings shuddered weakly as she reached up, wiping tears from her face before wrapping her arms around herself to try to stop her shaking. She was cold, wet and still felt sick. Her skin felt clammy and her wings limp. She blinked, took a deep breath, and looked around slowly. 

She was alone. 

She needed to find her bearings. The walls of the cave she was in were covered in a softly glowing moss that illuminated the entirety of the cavern in a soft green and blue glow. Marianne shivered with the deep cold and damp of the place. Her brow furrowed; the soft glow made her feel as if she was hovering between the world above and the world below. She could hear the sound of water dripping slowly into a puddle of water nearby. The sound slowly spread out until it consumed all other sound, then silence before the sound repeated. Marianne shivered again, her whole body aching; from her muscles to her bones and even her skin with the wet, the cold and however she had come to be here. 

Marianne looked down to see where she was lying. It appeared to be a small slab of stone surrounded by a dark pool of water. The glowing moss reflected back off the water; water that gave no indication of what lay beneath. She could see stalagmites sand stalactites stretching as far as the eye could see creating strange shadows that seemed to shift and move just enough to make the cavern look to be inhabited by shadowy creatures. Marianne felt her heart plummet. Where on earth was she? How did she get here? Her last clear memory was of her and Bog picking...berries? Then nothing until now...her mind raced—where was Bog? Was he all right? Her sister! Sunny! Her heart was pounding inside her chest as she forced herself to stand up. As she rose uneasily to her feet, she heard the voice, a sound like icy water trickling down her back. 

“Ah...the butterfly is awake.” 

Marianne turned one way, then the other, trying to determine the source of the voice. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, echoing off the damp stone walls, reflecting off the water's surface, chilling...a voice like nothing she had ever heard. 

“Who are you? Why have you taken me?!” Marianne hissed into the shadows. 

“Taken you? Moi? No...no...I rescued you from that horrible creature...that hybrid...an abomination that should not exist. I saved you.” 

The cold voice made gooseflesh race up and down her arms and along her spine. Marianne wrapped her arms around herself resisting the urge to draw her wings around her as well knowing it would be a false protection. 

“His name is Bog and he is my friend,” Marianne responded, feeling defensive of the tall goblin. 

The voice chuckled. “You give its name so freely. Names have power my butterfly...he must not really be your friend if you throw his name away so easily.” 

Marianne paled further. The voice laughed. “No worries butterfly, the name grants no power to me. I have no need of it.” 

Marianne turned slowly in a circle trying to find the location of the voice. “Who are you?” 

“My name? Oh, I don't have a name precisely, but you can call me Brollachan.” 

Marianne stiffened. She had heard that name before; as a child it was one of many fey creatures that she was told lived in the woods of the Dark Forest, one of many reasons why she was never supposed to play in the woods or wander off alone. She hadn't actually thought that... 

The voice laughed. “Oh silly butterfly. I can tell by your face...yes I am real, as real as you are, as real as this cave...” 

Her eyes still searching the darkness of the cave, frantically trying to find the creature, Marianne whispered. “What do you want from me?” 

The Brollachan laughed, the sound echoing uncomfortably around the cavern. “Why, everything butterfly—I want everything.” 

* 

Bog crouched down, his clawed fingers spread outward on the ground as he leaned forward and sniffed the air; his wings rattled softly behind him as he concentrated. He leaned forward and sniffed the ground, searching for the one trace that would lead him to her. The fog had grown denser, limiting visibility. Bog closed his eyes, focusing his sense of smell, his face hovering mere inches over the ground as he sniffed the air again, looking for any trace of her in the air. 

He was reminded of a story from his childhood, a story about a fey-like creature called a Brollachan that lived in the deep, dark places of the woods. Like all goblin stories, a warning was woven into the fabric of the story, a warning against a very real danger. He caught the threads of memory that floated in his mind like leaves in the wind, dancing on the edges of his consciousness. A creature of darkness, lacking form except for red eyes. An unlucky goblin would disappear, then, just as the search teams in the story were thinking the missing had become a victim of some predator, the goblin would reappear. Except they were different. Sometimes in the story the bad thing would win, keeping the body, then in other endings, the goblins would figure out what had happened and drive the creature from the body it possessed... 

Those stories always scared young Bog. To have something use you...take over everything that made you...you. Bog had enough difficulty with his views of self-identity that to know there was something out there that might take a person over was horrifying. Bog shuddered, the memory of the stories bringing back those old fears. Of course, there were others things in the forest: birds, spiders, wolves...lots of things that could kill a goblin, but it was the spirits, the wild fey creatures that frightened Bog the most. 

He pushed aside the stories of his childhood and focused. His brow furrowed as he sniffed again. There was a scent there, a strong scent that reminded him of caves, wet stone and dead, dank water...it was under the scent that he found her scent...Marianne. Her scent was pure, like summer sunlight and wildflowers in a field mixed with hints of vanilla...Bog smiled for a moment, he would always remember her scent...she was everything that was beautiful in the world. Everything that was denied him, yet...he didn't mind because she existed. 

Bog moved slowly, crab-walking a little as he followed her scent for a few seconds. The cold rotten scent was mixing with hers becoming stronger and stronger, overpowering Marianne's scent until the two were mixed completely and he could barely pull one from the other. Bog's eyes opened slowly. That cold rotten scent...it sent shivers up and down his spine, making him want to run, to flee. Whatever held that scent, it was ancient, as old as the forest if not older. And he felt that it was dangerous. 

Bog stood up then, his eyes narrowing in determination. He had the scent, now he had to follow it to Marianne. 

He moved swiftly, diving into the the fog leading him further into the woods. He had thought about going back to tell Sunny and Dawn what had happened, but he opted against that course; they both would have wanted to come with him and that would only have caused more problems. They were sweet, giving people, but neither Dawn nor Sunny were hunters or warriors. Their good hearts could easily get them, Marianne, or him killed. He had to find her alone; he was the only true fighter among them. But what also stopped him from returning to the camp to tell them was a sense of dire urgency. Bog didn't know what had taken Marianne, but it had moved silently and swiftly and its unnatural scent combined with childhood fears helped Bog make his choice. He knew he didn't have much time to save her. He had to find her now, for every moment was precious. 

Bog stayed close to the ground. His wings buzzed as he flew, as low as the forest would allow him, so that he wouldn't lose the scent. He was only partly paying attention to where he was going, the scent drawing him deeper into the forest. His focus was only on the scent; the trees, fog and darkness, all became simply background to the trail he was following. Bog figured that whatever had taken Marianne had to be close by. It couldn't have completely disappeared with her so silently, so quickly if it had far to go. Even if it had incapacitated Marianne, moving with a body would have slowed it down, made hiding that much harder. The further whatever it was had to go with Marianne, the more likely they would be caught; it would be easier to disappear if they took her someplace close by. 

Bog flew, keeping himself only mere inches from the ground when possible. He was flying quickly, almost crashing once or twice into a fallen tree or a large rock, when he came to an abrupt stop. The scent he was following disappeared into a hole in the ground. 

Bog rose up into the air, performed an acrobatic spin before he came down to land gracefully on the edge of the jagged hole. He stood on the edge with his toes hanging over and looked down at the inky darkness before he frowned deeply, a furrow appearing between his brows. He looked up from the hole to gaze at the forest around him, taking in his surroundings. The fog was as dense here as it was back where they had been picking berries, obscuring the trees and undergrowth. Bog worried at his bottom lip with his upper teeth, his eyes looking for any signs of life around him. He was standing roughly a mile or two from where he had started his search, further than he would have guessed. Now that he was here at this entrance, he only now noticed the lack of sound or life. He had been so focused on the trail he hadn't realized that this stretch of forest seemed devoid of all but plant life. There were no insects, no animals nearby, no evidence of life. The woods around him, around this dark opening was quiet, eerily silent...like a grave. 

Bog's wings twitched, creating a dry, whispering sound as he crouched down looking into the hole that seemed like a slip of absolute darkness. It was oddly shaped, small,the sides jagged. Bog would be able to get through the small opening, but only barely. He put his clawed hand into the hole. He could feel icy cold air, a chill that ran up his arm and seemed to seep into his blood. Something definitely lived down there, something malevolent... 

Bog stood up and looked around once more. Whatever had Marianne was evil, he had no doubt about that as he took in the “dead” forest around him, and it had Marianne. He took a deep breath, then, holding his wings tight to his body, he stepped off into the darkness. 

* 

Marianne took a step back and her foot plunged into icy dark water, the cold and wet immediately soaked through her boots and chilled her skin making its way up her limb. The water hit her around mid-thigh, but the chill covered her entire body making her wings stiff and achy. “Wha-what do you mean?” she stuttered. 

Her abductor chuckled. “I lust for a form of my own. I want to walk among your kind and feed freely. I want everything that is yours: your body, your mind, you emotions...even your physical pleasures, food, drinks, rutting...I want everything that would be yours to be mine little butterfly.” 

Marianne was looking around frantically for a way out, but each way was choked with shadows, water and endless stone. She had no idea where she was or how to get out...but dying down here on her own terms would be so much better than what this thing had in mind for her. Marianne was ready to run, but that was the moment she finally saw movement, finally saw something that had a definite shape to it coming out of the water. 

It was black...as if the very shadows themselves had taken form. There was a shape of a sort, but it was neither male nor female, neither fairy nor goblin. It was something else entirely, something she had never seen before, a shadowy blob, but what made her skin crawl with gooseflesh, made her heart speed up and her blood run like ice, were the red eyes. Looking at the eyes was like looking into the coals of a burning fire. And she couldn't look away. The creature laughed, though it had no mouth. 

“I've been waiting a long long time for something, anything sapient to come close enough for me to take it. I will pour myself into you, become you, taking everything that is you...” 

The shadow surged toward her like a hard winter wind. Marianne screamed, the sheer cold and terror of the thing ripped a scream reluctantly from her. Marianne wasn't a coward and normally she didn't scare, but this thing didn't simply want to hurt her...it wanted to be her and that scared her more than anything. She turned and ran. 

She found herself facing a small opening covered in sharp and deadly looking stalactites and stalagmites. It wouldn't be easy for her to get through, but she had to. With the shadowy beast behind her, she had no other choice. Marianne headed toward the cave opening that was before her, her eyes desperately searching the gloom for something she could use as a weapon. Part of her thought that this was folly; this Brollachan had no form! How could she hurt it?! But she didn't let those thoughts stop her from looking for something she could use to defend herself. 

She rushed to the small opening and started to push her way through between the deadly pointed formations of ancient stone. She could hear the thing behind her, laughing. It was moving slowly, taking its time. 

“There is nowhere for you to run butterfly. We are deep, deep in the belly of the forest where only I live...only I know my way around this darkness. I will be you...you will be me...there is no reason we can't share...is there?” 

Marianne felt the cold as the Brollachan flowed closer to her. Marianne pushed, the stone rough in places and smooth in others, pressed painfully against her, ripping her tunic and tugging at her wings. The thing was closer now. She could feel the cold dampness of its presence rolling across her skin when she suddenly broke through the teeth-like cave opening, falling forward and splashing in the icy stale water. She pushed herself to her feet, her wings fluttering behind her for a moment, the water dragging on the delicate wings. 

Laughter followed her. “Run run run as fast as you can!” 

* 

Bog emerged into what he thought was a large cavern. The weak watery light from above shone through the hole only to be swallowed by the darkness. Bog's wings moved quickly, keeping him in the air as he waited for his eyes to adapt to the darkness, his natural night vision taking a few seconds to adjust to the sudden change. Once he could see again, Bog looked around in astonishment. On nearly every surface of the huge cavern was a moss that seemed to glow in faint shades of blue and green. It was beautiful, he thought as he spun slowly around in the air. He sniffed again, trying to catch Marianne's scent or the scent of whatever it was that had taken her, but all he could really smell was wet stone and dank water. He drifted lower. The cave had several tunnels that led away from this main chamber, though the water seemed to be flowing in a northerly direction. Even down here, he noticed the lack of life. There were no insects like the usual cave crickets or fruit flies, no bats...nothing that should be living down here...it made Bog's plates crawl. 

He flew down, landing on a flat bit a slick stone trying to decide which way he should go when he heard a scream. It was terror-filled and echoed off the wall of the cave, being everywhere at once. Bog's blue eyes widened in fear as he reached up to cover his sensitive ears...but at the same moment he realized he knew that voice...the tone, the pitch. Even in terror he could feel the melody of it...Marianne. Bog resisted the urge to race off; he had to know where to go first. He waited and listened trying to determine the source of the echo. He was trembling with the effort to stay still, his heart pounding hard, the racing of his blood threatening to drown out the sound f her scream, but he remained still and waited. The scream faded...north. The way the water was flowing—that had to be the direction she was in. Bog turned racing in that direction wishing he could fly, but the entrance to the next section of the cave was too small. He would simply have to hope his feet could carry him fast enough. 

* 

Marianne stumbled into the next chamber. She fell, splashing water as she struggled to keep her footing on the slick wet stone. The water had gradually deepened as she moved into this chamber. The creature behind her simply laughed, the sound low and menacing, but also with a casual disdain. It knew it had all the time in the world to catch her. 

She raced forward, the dim moss that lit the cavern showed her that it was tiny compared to the one she had just left; she looked around desperately for another opening...her eyes landed on one. She could just barely see the top of the opening. It was close to the floor and water was moving through it into the room. She would have to crawl through the opening to the other side. 

Splashing through the water, Marianne raced for the opening. It was smaller than she thought and mostly under the water. She would have to hold her breath and swim/crawl through it. 

She took a deep breath and threw herself down under the water. Once her head was under the icy water she couldn't see a thing. She had to hope she wasn't crawling into a wall, or worse. She started to move, the cold water making her movements stiff and slow, but she found the opening and pushed her head through, then her shoulders. She could feel the stone scraping against her back and wings when something wrapped itself around her ankle and yanked her backwards. 

Marianne struggled, but the sudden surprise brought a silent scream that was drowned by the sudden flood of water into her mouth. 

* 

Bog hurried, ignoring the occasional scrape of his shoulder or leg against a stony passage wall. The opening he had just come through led further and further into the belly of the cave showing that it was a series of chambers that were becoming colder the further in he went, colder than a normal cave ought to be; but there was also a miasma that was building the deeper he went. The heavy, thick feeling was starting to seep through his plates. Something lived down here, something evil. Bog tried not to panic. He told himself he wasn't too late, that he could save her. 

* 

Marianne was yanked backwards, lifted up out of the water, then suddenly dropped. She fell with a loud splash, sputtering the dank water on her tongue. She floated on the surface for a moment where she could see the shadow arching over her, the red eyes staring down at her. She rolled fanatically in the water and lurched to her feet, scrambling to get away. Her wings ached with the cold and wet, hanging limply down her back. It was difficult to force her limbs to move and she couldn't feel her fingers or toes any longer. The cold was painful, freezing her, slowing her movements. 

“There is nowhere to go butterfly. Make this easy, just submit to me. If you don't, I can make this very, very painful.” The voice cooed at her, but Marianne did her best to ignore it. She slipped on the slick rocks beneath her, water splashing as she plunged forward, her knees striking stone, her hands sliding across the slick rock beneath her plunging her once again under the surface of the water. 

Marianne sobbed, fear threatening to paralyze her, to pull her back, to let her sink into the dark water. She was losing her control, she knew it, but at the same time she was having difficulty focusing on keeping herself moving away from it. She didn't know if the creature was doing something to her or if it was her own fear, but she was weakening. She fell forward again, the creature laughing at her, when her hand wrapped around something long...a sword-shaped stalagmite that had come loose and lay at the bottom of the pool. A weapon! Wrapping her hand around it gave her something to focus on, a glimmer of hope. 

Marianne rose out of the water, struggling to her feet. She could feel the creature behind her, coming closer, playing with her. When she felt the chill of it right at her back, when she knew it was directly behind her, Marianne turned, swinging the long piece of stone just as the shadowy Brollachan rose over her. Her stone sword sliced through the shadows that made up the body of the monster...as if nothing was there, nothing there at all. Marianne stared in horror as the creature laughed in her face. 

“Did you really believe that would hurt me? Silly butterfly.” 

Marianne looked up into the red eyes of the thing and screamed. 

* 

Bog heard her again, close...she had to be in the next chamber! Bog took off in the direction of her echoing cries only to find that it ended in a wall of rock. Bog placed his hands against the stone surface, panic starting to set in. Marianne was on the other side, he was sure of it. He ran his hands over the surface hissing to himself. 

“Mareann...Mareann...” His voice started to quiver slightly with emotion and cold. “Mareann!” He slammed his fists against the slick stone surface in frustration and fear. She needed him and he couldn't get to her. 

He felt it the water around his legs, but he felt it moving...it was flowing past him. It wasn't fast, but it was definitely moving. He looked down to see that the water was flowing through the wall. Bog took several steps back before taking a deep breath, then he ducked under the surface of the icy water. His night vision allowed him to see just a hint, but it looked to be a shadowy opening in the wall. Bog wasn't completely sure he could fit through; his wide shoulders would make it difficult, but he had to try. 

He came back up to take another few deep breaths, holding as much air in his lungs as he could before he went back under the water. He examined the hole; it was going to be a very tight fit. He pushed his head through easily enough, but his broad shoulders didn't want to budge. Bog pulled his head out of the hole, then tried again, leading with one arm and his head. He pushed through, but his shoulders and broad back were making it difficult. He squirmed and shoved, planting his feet on the floor of the underwater river and pushed while reaching out with his clawed arm that was through, digging his claws painfully into the stone to pull and shove at the same time. The stone sides cut into his plating. It didn't hurt much at first, but the more he struggled, the more violently he pushed and pulled, the stone started to scrape away at his plates digging into until it was starting to hurt. As he continued to work to get himself through, he stopped feeling anything, the cold numbing the pain to the point that he wasn't aware he was bleeding, but he was starting to see spots from holding his breath. He continued to struggle, until, just when he thought he would lose control and open his mouth to swallow water, his lungs burning, blackness closing in on his sight, his entire body suddenly slid through the opening into the next chamber. 

* 

The Brollachan lifted Marianne up, shook her until she lost her grip on the slick stone makeshift sword and tossed her down again onto the flat surface of stone that jutted past the water's surface. She gasped as the air was knocked out of her lungs and the Brollachan leaned over her. She could see nothing but the red eyes. She put her hands out as if to stop it. “NO!” she cried just as the Brollachan plunged into her mouth. 

* 

At the other end of the cave, Bog broke the surface of the water, coming up gasping for breath. He looked around for Marianne even as he stumbled and coughed trying to pull air into his lungs, catching sight of her just as the Brollachan was pouring into her. 

Bog shouted. “NO!” 

He struggled thought the water, racing to get to her, but it was too late. The creature had disappeared inside the petite woman; had taken her over. 

“NO! Mareann!!” 

Marianne turned toward him, her eyes glowing red. “I know your name creature. I know what you are...you half-breed monster.” 

Bog snarled. “Et oot of her!” Then he changed his speech to goblin and hissed. “Let her go!” 

Marianne stood up slowly, but it wasn't her voice that answered him. “Make me creature. I dare you.” 

Bog was trembling with fear and rage in equal measures. But he narrowed his eyes in concentration, a memory floating just out of reach...he couldn't be sure what this creature was, but there were only so many things that could possess a person, only a limited number of beings that needed to possess someone. He remembered stories...how to save a possessed person...herbal medicines, song...if he could get a hold of her, hod her and and sing, that might drive the creature out. Then he would only have a limited time to escape with her... 

Bog lunged. Whatever the Brollachan had been expecting from Bog, the sudden lunge, followed by Bog wrapping his arms around Marianne and holding her tightly to him was not it. 

The Brollachan roared. “Let me go you foul creature!! You half-breed monster!!” 

Bog grinned and hissed in goblin speech. “You have a form now, but that means you are subject to the weakness of a form monster.” 

Marianne/Brollachan struggled viciously, whipping her head back and forth, smashing her forehead into Bog's mouth, hitting him across the chin, injuring them both; but Bog held on tightly. 

The stories never told what song to sing; they only ever said that a song drove the monster out of the body. If it was sung by the person's lover, a spouse, a parent, someone emotionally invested in the person possessed, then the magic of the song worked that much better...along with the herbal medicines. Bog didn't have any herbs, of course. All he had was the music and his feelings for Marianne which were...twisted at the moment. 

He held her struggling form even as she bit at him or alternately used her head to slam into him, trying to break free. He didn't know what to sing, didn't know if it would even work, but he was willing to try, for her sake. 

He pulled her close to him laying his cheek against her head and in goblin sang softly in a whisper while the monster inside her fought him. 

“A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi; 

A ghràidh, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi; 

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi - 

An tòir chrodh-laoigh a thàine mi. 

Gur ann a-raoir a chuala mi 

Mo ghaol a bhith ri buachailleachd, 

’S ged fhuair thu ’n iomall na buaile mi, 

A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh mar fhuair thu mi....” 

* 

The song was one his mother had sung when he was young. It was the only one that came to mind. It was a story rather than a chant, nothing magical to the song, but it was all he had so that was what he kept singing, holding her close and rocking her hoping that he would free her. The monster inside her struggled, using Marianne's body to fight him. 

Bog closed his eyes screwing them tightly close and held on with all his strength, singing softly, never losing the threads of the song. When it happened, it didn't happen violently. There was no sudden burst of magic, no violent vomiting, no tremors, but when the creature fled Marianne's body, it simply flowed out of her slowly, dripping like black sap from a dying tree, melting from her mouth to flow down into the water. Bog opened his eyes when he felt her go limp in his arms. He continued to sing even as the Brollachan lay like a pool of ink in the water, unmoving, the red eyes staring up at the cavern ceiling unmoving, just floating on the surface of the water. 

Bog eased his hold on Marianne. She wasn't moving, completely slack, her skin ghostly pale. He turned her face gently up to examine her. She was breathing, thank the spirits Bog thought. He carefully pulled the lid of one eye back with his claw. They were brown again. 

Bog nearly choked on a sob of relief. She was alive and herself again. He stood up, hefting her up into his arms. He glanced over at the Brollachan. It was moving, just very slowly as if it was a effort for the creature. Bog took a deep breath. Now, he needed to get Marianne out of here. 

Bog didn't wait, he moved swiftly toward the hole he had pushed through. His heart was beating hard against his ribcage, he was simply going to have to hope he could get Marianne out without drowning her and before the creature was able to come after them. Hope was all he had at the moment. Taking a deep breath, he dove under the water, the chill of which threatened to halt his struggles. Each movement became an effort of will. He could see the entrance just ahead of him. He positioned Marianne and slipped her through the hole hoping that he could get her out of the water quickly enough...no...no he wasn't going to think about it, he needed to focus on escape. 

Once Marianne was through, Bog followed. Going back out of the hole was thankfully far easier than coming in. He still struggled, but made it to the other side much quicker. He gasped splashing to the surface to see Marianne laying on her back, floating but she didn't appear to be breathing. 

Bog hissed. “Mareann..” 

He grabbed her just as he heard something stirring behind him. The water near the hole appeared to be roiling, bubbling. Bog's eyes widened. It was coming. He lifted Marianne into his arms and took off, running as quickly as he could, splashing through the water and running until he passed into the cavern that he had originally entered into. Then, with a grunt of effort to get his cold wings moving, Bog took to the air. Getting the height he needed to escape was hard, with his wings cold and wet, but he ground his teeth, held her tightly and made his wings work, forced them to fight against the deep, aching cold and wet to carry them both upward. 

Moments later, Marianne was shoved through the hole into the watery sunlight of the forest. Her body rolled away from the hole with the force of Bog's shove. 

Bog grabbed the edges of the hole and pulled himself up, the stone scraping painfully against his shoulders plates and wings as he struggled, tearing into the delicate membrane of his wings, fighting his broad shoulders, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was through. 

He crawled quickly over to Marianne. She still wasn't breathing. Bog frowned, the cold and fear made his body start to shiver uncontrollably. He put his hands to her chest, and pressed. He had seen this done on more than one occasion. Traveling goblins sometimes had to cross bodies of water and not everyone could swim or someone would be caught in a current. Every goblin learned how to revive a drowned comrade, it was simply part of being a member of a nomadic group. Bog had never had to revive anyone before, but he knew the basics. 

He also knew that it did not always work, but he shook away that thought. 

Bog pressed on her chest, then leaned her head back slightly, holding her nose and breathed into her mouth. He continued to do this in almost an mechanical fashion, thinking about nothing but counting his breaths and his compresses, not willing to entertain the idea that he was too late. 

He had no idea how long he continued this way. It seemed forever, an endless cycle of press and breathe, when suddenly Marianne gasped. It was a hoarse and painful sound followed by her vomiting water. Bog, who had been pressing on her chest stopped and hurried to hold her head to the side, being as gentle as he could until she dry heaved a few times and finally took a shuddering but clear breath. 

He picked her up tenderly, holding her gently in his arms and close to his chest. 

Marianne blinked rapidly for a moment or two before she stared up at him. “Bog? You...you came for me.” A smile, weak but brilliant in Bog's eyes, formed across her face. He had never seen anything as beautiful in all his life as her smile. 

He smiled weakly in return, he started shivering from the cold and relief. Bog bowed his body over her. “Mareann.” He shivered uncontrollably, tightening his hold on her. 

“Mareann...” he whispered her name again. 

Marianne wrapped her own shaking arms around him. “Oh Bog.” 

She kissed his head, then his cheeks, his nose; when Bog lifted his head a little to gaze into her eyes, she pressed her lips to his mouth. Bog stiffened at first, but when she flicked her tongue across his closed mouth, he let out a soft sigh, welcoming her kiss. He kissed her back. Marianne tightened her grip on him and Bog seemed to wrap himself around her, holding her tightly. 

They both heard the rage-filled cry of the Brollachan below them.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try a darker story so here we go! I believe a darker one similar story (involving slavery??) has been done, but that will not be the main focus on this story.


End file.
